Forever Mine
by Rainack
Summary: AU: Greg makes a purchase at the mall one day that will change his life forever! Nick/Greg slash.  Please read and reveiw.  Rated M for leater chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own them, just love to play with them!

Forever Mine

Chapter 1

Greg Sanders had no idea what he was doing in this part of the mall. He'd certainly had no intention of coming here. He'd just been wandering a bit aimlessly, not even really thinking about anything. Then he'd looked up and discovered himself here.

Even this early on a Saturday morning, the mall was crowded, this end a bit more so than the rest.

He had meant to go in a couple of shops, pick up a few pieces of clothing, then leave. Now, he found himself in the slave market, not exactly sure how he'd wound up here. He really should have been back home already, crawling into bed. While the hour was early to everyone else, it was actually quite late to Greg, since he worked the graveyard shift at the Las Vegas Crime Lab. He was the youngest head of a DNA lab in the U.S. at twenty-eight.

Spinning on his heel, determined to just walk out of the slave market without looking, his eye was none-the-less caught by a line of slaves standing nearby, awaiting inspection by prospective buyers. No wait, not all of them were on their feet.

A little ways away from the rest of the line, one man was on his knees, arms pulled painfully over a bar across his shoulders. Even in this helpless position, his face held a defiant expression: square jaw clenched so tightly shut, his jaw muscles stood out, brow drawn together in a scowl that etched deep lines across his forehead, deep brown eyes glaring at anyone who dared to stop and look at him.

That glare was now directed at Greg, as he ran an appraising eye over the kneeling man. At full height, Greg estimated him to be maybe a few inches shorter than his own six-one. Dark hair shaved close made sure lice and fleas couldn't gain a foothold. Powerful, defined muscles of the man's bare chest spoke of years of manual labor. The only clothing the man wore – a pair of faded blue jeans – were thread bare in most places, and had holes in several other places.

Without really thinking about why he was doing so, Greg stepped forward for a closer inspection. Gingerly turning the man's left hand on the bar so that he could see the palm and pads of his fingers, while causing as little pain as possible, Greg inspected the hand.

"Prime worker, that one," a voice interrupted Greg's thoughts, causing him to straighten and turn toward the sound.

The slave master was a portly man, at least a foot shorter than Greg. His graying hair lay in a greasy mess on his head, and his oily skin made Greg wonder when he'd last bathed.

Greg didn't say anything, just gave the slave master a calculating look and waited to hear what the oily man would say next.

"Slave of his caliber goes for fifteen thousand, easily, but this one's on special. Eight thousand and he's all yours."

Greg narrowed his eyes, looking from the kneeling slave to the slave master. "Eight thousand! You'll be lucky to get three for him. He's obviously going feral, or he'd be with the others," Greg motioned with his hand at the line of slaves standing several feet away, their eyes downcast. Then his mouth spilled out a few more words before his brain had the sense to intervene, "I'll give you four for him."

The slave master sputtered indignantly, but seemed to realize he'd tried to con a man with experience with slaves. "Fine! He's yours! Follow me and we can draw up the paperwork."

As Greg followed the oily slave master away, he missed the look of wide eyed disbelief on his new slave's face.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Nick Stokes had been kneeling on the hard floor for hours now. His body hurt all over, but he thought his knees, back, and shoulders hurt the worst.

If anyone had asked him fifteen years ago what he thought his life would be like right now, he certainly wouldn't have answered this.

Back then – a junior in high school – he'd been playing football and anticipating joining the police academy in a year's time, while pursuing a degree in criminology at Texas A & M.

That point in his life being too painful to think about, Nick brought his mind back to the very physical pain he was feeling in the present. Here he was, up for sale again, because he wouldn't do as he was told. And why the hell should he? He wasn't supposed to be a slave, dammit!

He could only hope he didn't sell, and they would be forced to kill him. Being dead had to be better than being owned. He'd been beaten and starved. One owner had even tried to force him to his bed. Nick had bitten that one for his troubles. That was how he'd come to be here, again. Though how he'd ended up in Vegas was a bit of a mystery to him.

He'd made sure to keep a glare firmly in place on his face. That – along with the bar across his shoulder – had sent several prospective buyers hurrying off in other directions. It didn't seem to be working on the young man who was now looking him over.

Six-one and wiry, Nick was sure this man hadn't seen a hard day's work in his life. Light brown eyes assessed Nick, as Nick's darker ones returned the favor.

Dark hair, shot through with blond highlights, was spiked in every direction on the man's head. He was dressed in a faded black T-shirt with some kind of design on it, a dark blue pair of jeans, and red striped white shoes.

When the man reached for his hand, turning it gently – he barely felt a twinge from his aching muscles – Nick didn't make a sound. He'd meant to growl, but something stopped him. Could this man be different from all the others?

Then the slave master had made his appearance, and the young man had spoken to the master with a depth of knowledge of someone who owned many slaves.

It still caught Nick off guard when the young man purchased him, even knowing Nick was uncontrollable. He couldn't keep the look of disbelief off his face when his new owner walked away with the slave master to fill out the paperwork.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Within a half hour, Greg had handed over a check for the full four thousand dollars, and the slave master had filled out a bill of sale, and updated the slave RFID – radio frequency identification – replacing Nick's prior owner's information with Greg's.

The slave owner now pulled Nick roughly to his feet, smacking Nick upside the head when he tried to twist free of the greasy man's grip.

"That's my property you're manhandling, and I don't appreciate it!" Greg snapped at the man, stepping forward and pushing him away from Nick. "Give me the keys to that damned bar!" he demanded next, intent on freeing Nick from the inhumane thing.

As he removed the bar, Greg murmured a few soothing words to Nick, treating him as one might treat a frightened animal.

Once the bar was removed, Nick rolled his shoulders, trying to release the tightness in them. Then he rubbed his wrists, where they'd been secured to the bar, restoring circulation. He still didn't speak, but the glare had left his face, to be replaced by a calculating look. He boldly met his new master's eyes, full well knowing that could get him beaten.

Greg returned the gaze, feeling a jolt as brown eyes met brown eyes for the first time. He couldn't shake the feeling that the man before him was the whole reason he'd unwittingly found himself at the slave market this morning. He gave Nick a reassuring smile.

With a quiet command of, "Follow me," Greg headed out of the slave market.

Both men knew that at this point, Nick had no choice but to follow his new master. The exits at this mall were all manned by security personnel wielding RFID scanners. Any slave trying to exit the mall without their master, or written permission from their master, was detained while their master was contacted. They were usually beaten severely during the wait, as well.

Nick fell into step a few paces behind his new master. Though from the angle of his head, he appeared to be looking at the floor in front of him, he was actually watching every move Greg made, studying him from behind.

At the mall's main entrance, Greg allowed his wrist to be scanned, which turned up no RFID, of course, as he'd never been a slave. He waited while Nick held up his own wrist, and verified to the guard that Nick was his slave.

Just outside the doors, Greg took a firm grip on Nick's upper right arm, and whispered in his ear, "I know you're thinking about running," before pulling him along towards his car. "Don't! Come to my place with me, hear me out. Then, if you still want to run, I won't stop you."

Nick looked over at his master and blinked in astonishment, but he still didn't say anything. After a moment, he slowly nodded.

Letting a relieved smile touch his lips, Greg relaxed his grip and said, "My name's Greg, by the way. The slave master said your name's Nick?" Greg was hoping to get Nick to say something. He really wanted to hear the other man's voice, but again, Nick only nodded.

They reached Greg's Volkswagen Jetta a moment later, and were at Greg's apartment a short time after that.

When Greg led him in, Nick took a look around the apartment.

It was nice, from what he could see from his perch on the sofa. The door opened into the livingroom, which held a large entertainment center with a large TV, home theater system, and two gaming consoles. There were games, DVDs, and CDs taking up the rest of the center, along with a few framed photos and some nicknacks. Across from the entertainment center was the sofa, a black leather affair. That was bracketed on both sides by black leather arm chairs. A coffee table took up some of the floor space between the sofa and entertainment center.

A door lead into what he assumed was the kitchen, and a hallway lead deeper into the apartment.

Greg cleared his throat, drawing Nick's attention back to him. "I'm not really sure what came over me today. I'm not really the slave owning type. My parents own a few, but I had never really considered it. There's just something..." he trailed off for a moment, then, "I won't make you do anything you don't want to do. I could use a little help around here, my hours at work can be pretty crazy. I promise to keep you housed, clothed, and fed. If there's anyone from your old life you'd like to contact, I'll even let you do that."

Nick still looked ready to bolt, glancing between Greg and the door. Nick had to be hearing things. People purchased slaves to do work for them, but Greg had just said he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to.

"Look, if you still want to run, then go. I won't stop you. I won't even report you. You still won't get far, though."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

When Nick didn't make a move for the door, Greg began talking again. Babbling nervously, but unable to stop, he rose from his spot on the arm of one of the arm chairs. "C'mon, I'll show you your room, find some clean clothes you can borrow until we can go get you some. You can even take a shower, if you'd like."

Halfway down the hallway, Greg was actually surprised to sense the other man's presence behind him. Pushing a door opened, Greg clicked on the light switch, illuminating an unfurnished room strewn with boxes, some of them obviously empty.

Nick gazed into the room from behind Greg, thoroughly unimpressed. It wouldn't be the first time he'd slept on the floor.

"We'll clear all this out later," Greg began, fighting to stifle a sudden yawn, "after I've gotten some sleep. Then tomorrow we'll go find some furniture. Clothes, and other things, too. Oh, and groceries. I have enough for dinner tonight, probably something for breakfast, but that's about it."

Still unsure of the whole situation, Nick didn't say anything, just moved out of Greg's way when he backed out of the room after turning the light off.

As Greg headed towards his room, Nick following, he began to talk again. "I work graveyard at the crime lab, so I sleep from about seven or eight a.m. until three or fourish. I work ten p.m. to six a.m., but depending on how busy I am in the DNA lab, sometimes I end up working doubles. You can keep the same hours as me, or not. Whatever. You're welcome to watch anything on TV, even use the video games. I won't make anything off limits to you."

By now, Greg had several articles of clothing, he thought would fit Nick until he could take him shopping the next day, in a pile in his arms.

"Look, you can sleep on the couch tonight, probably tomorrow night, too. By the day after tomorrow, whatever furniture we get should be delivered and set up. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. This is actually pretty late for me to be up, so I'm going to crash."

Greg held the stack of clothes out to Nick, who accepted them with a small smile and a nearly whispered, "Thank you, master."

"My name's Greg, Nick. In informal settings, that's what I'd like you to call me," Greg replied with a smile of his own. As he turned away to go about getting ready for bed, Greg had to stifle the urge to touch Nick.

There seemed to be an electric current between the two men, but Greg didn't want to push Nick. He knew nothing of the other man's history, so he didn't want to try to push him into anything. Especially after he'd promised not to. He'd just have to wait for Nick to come to him, if he would. Greg had no idea if Nick even went for guys.

Nick sighed as he stepped into the steamy shower.

Since his most recent sale to the slave master, he hadn't been granted much time for bathing, and certainly not in private.

For several minutes, he just stood under the spray of hot water, letting it cascade over him. It felt Devine on muscles forced into one position for far too many hours.

Rubbing a small amount of shampoo into the stubble of hair on his head, Nick hoped his new master... Greg, would allow him to grow his hair out, at least a little bit. He hated having it this short.

Next he grabbed the soap and worked it into a good lather all over his body. He payed especially careful attention to his feet, as he'd been forced to walk around barefoot for days now, so they were caked in filth.

When he was done bathing, he carefully washed the dirty footprints from the shower floor, cleaning up after himself as his mother had taught him to.

At the thought of his mother, he thought about what Greg had mentioned about contacting family. A sob escaped him at the thought of possibly talking to his mom again. If she was still alive after all this time, after everything that had happened to his family.

Resting his right forearm against the cool tile of the shower stall, he leaned his head on his arm and allowed himself to cry. It was something he hadn't allowed himself to do in years. Tears mixed with water and dripped from the end of his nose to fall to the floor and swirl down the drain.

As he was drying off, after turning off the water and getting out of the shower, Nick realized that running had become the last thing on his mind.

There was just something about Greg. He seemed different from his previous owners. Granted, they all had acted nice to him the first couple of days, but for some reason, Greg really seemed different.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Greg surprised himself by sleeping in until five p.m. He wasn't usually one for sleeping late, or lazing about in bed.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, to relieve his bladder, he shuffled towards the kitchen. He wore a pair of plaid pajama bottoms, no shirt, or socks, and his hair was truly sleep mussed – sticking out in every direction, except on the side he'd spent the majority of the night on, which was flat against his head.

When he reached the livingroom, he was pleasantly surprised to find Nick sprawled out on the couch, dead to the world, as though he hadn't had a good sleep in years. With a sad smile, Greg mused that he probably hadn't since he'd become a slave.

Nick's chest rose and fell evenly as he breathed, his nostrils flaring gently on every indrawn breath. Greg found himself aching to touch the taut and tanned muscles of Nick's chest. The only clothing Nick wore was a pair of sweat pants Greg had lent him.

Stifling a groan of frustration, Greg spun on his heel and pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. He hoped a hot cup of Blue Hawaiian would help take his mind off the Adonis sleeping peacefully on his couch. He would _not_ force the other man into anything, dammit!

Within a few minutes of filling the coffee maker, the smell of gourmet coffee was wafting throughout the apartment.

Not long after the coffee finished brewing, Nick stumbled into the kitchen. He hadn't put on a shirt, and his hair was too short to be sleep mussed. Taking a deep breath – taking the coffee's scent as deeply into his lungs as possible – he let out a nearly sexual moan.

"You're still here, I see," Greg greeted Nick with a small smile, praying he wasn't blushing as furiously as he thought he was. "Help yourself to a cup. I guarantee it tastes even better than it smells."

When Nick looked to Greg to confirm he'd heard correctly, Greg saw Nick's eyes widen slightly, and figured he was probably even redder than he had originally feared. Nodding at Nick, Greg took a careful sip from his own steaming mug. An involuntary sigh of contentment escaped his lips.

Over by the coffee pot, Nick hunched his broad shoulders slightly, as if trying to make himself smaller. It only served to draw Greg's eyes to the furious blush that had spread across Nick's shoulders and back.

Nearly scalding his mouth on a too large swallow of coffee, Greg choked and sputtered for a moment, then stammered out, "I- I'm going to go get dressed, then I'll fix us some dinner." He then fled the kitchen.

Nick wanted to curse his body's reaction to Greg's blush. And, oh, God! That beautiful bare chest!

Leaning against the counter, hands splayed flat on the tile surface, he hunched his shoulders as he fought the flush he could feel spreading across his own bare skin.

When Greg left the kitchen abruptly, Nick nearly sagged in relief.

Resolving not to dwell on things that would probably never be – certainly Greg's blush was due to embarrassment over Nick's reaction to the smell of the coffee – Nick finally poured himself a mug and took a cautious sip.

He had to admit, it was even better than it smelled.

Taking his mug to the livingroom with him, he set it on the coffee table while he retrieved a T-shirt from the small pile of clothes Greg had lent him. After pulling the shirt on, he picked his coffee back up, but just stood in front of the couch, unsure of what to do.

Greg's soft, "You can turn on the TV, if you want," made Nick jump. Coffee sloshed over the side of the mug and onto Nick's hand, making him yelp in pain. The mug fell from his hand to shatter on the hardwood floor. Coffee and ceramic flew in all directions.

"Shit! Stay there, Nick! Don't move!" Greg exclaimed. It took a moment for Nick to realize there was no anger in Greg's voice, only what sounded like concern.

After bolting into the kitchen, Greg came back with a broom and wet wash rag. Stepping carefully through the mess, Greg handed the wash rag to Nick, who immediately knelt to begin sopping up the coffee.

"No! Nick, wrap that around your hand," Greg ordered, as he realized Nick thought he was intended to clean up the mess.

He looked up at Greg from his crouched position, unsure.

Greg, sweeping the mess out of the way, so Nick could get through without cutting his feet, repeated, "Wrap the rag around your hand. I wet it with cold water. It'll help draw the sting out until I can get you out of this."

Finally comprehending what he was being told, Nick stood and carefully wrapped the cloth around his burned hand. He'd never had an owner who cared more about his well being than that of the rest of their property.

By that time Greg had swept enough of the debris out of the way for Nick to walk to the kitchen. When Nick didn't move, Greg grabbed his uninjured hand and pulled him forward.

Now something else dawned on Nick, Greg was babbling, "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to startle you! So sorry!" over and over again.

In the kitchen, Greg pushed Nick toward the sink.

Nick watched Greg, still in a state of shock, as Greg turned on the cold water, removed the cloth, and thrust Nick's hand under the cold stream.

Unable to help himself, Nick reveled in Greg's soft touch, as Greg pulled Nick's hand from the water to inspect the burn.

Muttering to himself, Greg wasn't aware of the way Nick was watching him. Nick's eyes were wide, pupils dilated so much his eyes appeared black, and his lips were parted ever so slightly.

When Greg looked up, saying, "Doesn't look to be more than first degree. May sting a little for a while," Nick blinked rapidly and averted his gaze. He didn't think Greg had noticed.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Moving away, Greg grabbed a dust pan and mop from beside the refrigerator. "I'll go finish cleaning that up."

Greg was nearly to the swinging door when Nick spoke, "You're not mad at me?" The words were like a lover's caress to Greg's ears. The hint of a southern drawl making him nearly weak in the knees. At the same time, the words tore at his heart. The tone of Nick's voice spoke of resignation and acceptance of the beating he thought should be coming.

"Why the hell would I be mad at you?" Greg asked incredulously. He was glad he held the mop and dustpan at that moment, because he wasn't sure he could have stilled his hand from touching the other man, as it was, he couldn't stop the step he took back toward Nick.

"I broke your cup. Possibly damaged your floor," Nick's gaze was locked on a spot between his bare feet.

Now Greg gripped the dust pan and mop tightly in anger. No human being should have to go through what this strong man obviously had. And Greg realized that Nick was strong. He hadn't broken under the pressure placed on him. He had conformed to a point, but that was all. Nick looked down at the floor now because that was what was expected of him, but he pushed other limits that with any other owner would get him severely beaten. It made Greg wonder exactly how long Nick had been a slave, because surely he had to be relatively new to the life. Those who had been slaves for years lost the spark that Nick clearly still held.

"Coffee mugs and floors can be replaced. You can't!" Greg said, as he pushed his way through the door. Let Nick take that how he would, Greg decided, as he cleaned up the floor.

Deciding to put off dinner for a little while longer, Greg went into the spare room, soon to be Nick's room, to start clearing it out.

Setting two empty boxes aside to put items for charity in, he began breaking down the others.

He had just broken down the last empty box and tossed it on the pile on the floor, when Nick appeared in the doorway. He watched Greg for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face.

Turning towards Nick, Greg said, "How's your hand?"

"It's okay, Master. It doesn't hurt anymore."

Needing an excuse to touch the other man again, Greg held out his hand, and said, "Let me see." As Nick complied, stepping closer and placing his hand on Greg's for inspection, Greg smiled gently at Nick and reminded him, "It's Greg."

"Yes, Ma... Greg."

Once Greg had inspected Nick's hand and released it again, Nick asked, "Do you wish me to help?"

Thinking for a moment, Greg looked around. "Well, there's not much you can help with at the moment. I need to go through these boxes, find out what's in them. When I moved out here from California a few years ago, I just shoved this stuff in here and forgot about it. When I'm done, you can help me take the empty boxes to the dumpster and the charity boxes to the car."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Nick had to fight to steady his breathing as Greg moved above him. The sight of Greg's pink tongue, sticking out between soft lips, as he concentrated on his task, was driving Nick crazy.

It didn't help that the sweep of the tip of the ballpoint pen over the skin on his cheek tickled.

"Wouldn't it be easier to just lock a collar around my neck? That's what my former masters did." He resisted the urge to shift on the kitchen chair, instead, holding onto the edges of it in a white knuckled grip he hoped Greg wouldn't notice.

"Easier, yes. This is about trust, though. My trust in you to not wash this off and run away. Your trust in me that this means I'll take care of you. There. Done." Greg took a step back, admiring his freehand drawing skills. Satisfied, he handed Nick a hand mirror he'd set on the counter earlier.

Nick reluctantly took the mirror, not sure what he'd see on his cheek. He knew that some owners tattooed their slaves, instead of collaring them, but he'd never known of any that would just draw their sigil on with a ballpoint pen that could be washed away.

A stylized shooting star streaked down Nick's cheek, the tail forming a constellation in the shape of an 'S.' Nick found he liked this much better than a collar. Even though he still knew little about Greg, he felt that the sigil was a perfect fit for his master. And deep down, Nick was pleased to be claimed as Greg's.

"It looks better in color, so we'll have to see about getting some gel pens. Once you get the hang of it, it's pretty easy to draw, so you should be able to do it yourself, too." Capping the pen, Greg put it and the mirror away, and they were off to go shopping.

Having planned to be out later than usual today, Greg had taken a nap the night before. It was just after nine in the morning, and they were at the Super Wal-Mart near Greg's apartment. Greg had made this their first stop because he didn't want Nick to walk around barefoot all day, and his own shoes wouldn't fit the other man.

In the shoe aisle, Greg eyed the selection available. "I think you should have at least two pairs. Do you like to jog? I try to go jogging a few times a week, wouldn't mind company."

"I jogged as part of my training in the off season for football, when I was in highschool," Nick replied quietly. "It would be nice to do it again."

"Choose yourself a pair of shoes for everyday use and a pair for jogging, then." As an afterthought, Greg added, "As long as you don't get too extravagant with price, it isn't an issue."

As Nick tried on some different shoes, Greg reflected on what Nick had told him. The night before, he'd tried to get Nick to open up, tell him about his past, but he wouldn't. Now he knew the other man had played football in highschool. It was a start.

When they were done in the clothing section – the shopping cart loaded down with shirts, jeans, sweats, packages of socks, underwear, and the two pairs of shoes – they headed over to the health section, where Greg made sure Nick had a toothbrush, deodorant, and – after asking Nick if he wanted to keep his hair short or let it grow out – a comb.

Eyes lighting up at one of his sudden brilliant ideas, Greg pushed the loaded down cart towards the back of the store. Nick trailed quietly behind, not questioning his master. He just thought his master had remembered something he wanted to get for himself.

In the electronics department, Greg looked over the display of MP3 players. He pointed out one of the newer iPods to the clerk. Then he wandered over to the laptop display. Choosing one of those, he motioned to the clerk again.

Turning to Nick, Greg said, "Go choose a few music CDs and a computer game or two."

Nick looked at Greg a bit blankly, not comprehending what Greg wanted of him.

"The iPod and laptop are for you. You'll need music and games to use with them. C'mon, I'll help you choose." Greg pushed the cart down the music aisle.

It took him a moment to realize Nick wasn't behind him, but still standing over by the laptops, a stunned look on his face.

"Nick, c'mon," Greg called to him.

Blinking rapidly, as he came back to himself, Nick hurried over to Greg. "Master, you don't have to get those things for me," he said in a hushed voice.

Greg had to fight the urge to touch the other man. He settled for clenching the push bar of the shopping cart hard enough to turn his knuckles white. "You'll need something to do when I'm at work. I don't want you to be bored."

"But, they're so expensive, Master," Nick said, trying to get Greg to change his mind.

"I'm not changing my mind, Nicky," Greg wasn't sure where that nickname came from, but it earned him a strange look from Nick. Changing the subject rapidly, Greg said, "What kind of music do you like?"

Back at the car a short while later, Greg dug through the bags until he found a package of socks and Nick's new everyday use shoes.

While Greg loaded the rest of the purchases into the trunk, Nick put on a pair of socks and his new shoes. Then they were off to a furniture store.

As they wandered the showroom, Greg asked, "See anything you like, Nick? It's going to be your furniture in your room," he added a silent, _Unless I can coax you into my bed._

Nick settled on a simply designed set of pine furniture. Greg suspected Nick had chosen it more for its low price than because he truly liked it, but Nick had a real smile lighting up his face – actually reaching his eyes – so Greg told the salesman he'd take it.

As the salesman was writing up the sales ticket, Greg noticed him eyeing the shooting star on Nick's cheek.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, casually leaning an arm on the counter.

"Just never had any slaves in here. Shouldn't you have a collar on him? I mean, he could just wash that off and run, couldn't he? You're sure spending quite a bit on him, too." The salesman simply seemed curious, so Greg tried to keep irritation from his voice when he replied.

"He stays with me because he knows he doesn't have to worry about having a piece of metal locked around his neck. I spend money on him because he's my responsibility. Besides, if I treat him fairly, he'll do as I ask because he knows I won't mistreat him."

"Guess I'd never thought about it that way before," the man replied. "How will you be paying today?"

"Credit card," Greg replied, pulling his wallet from his hip pocket and digging the card out to hand to the salesman.

A panicked look settled on Nick's face, "No, Master! Don't go into debt on my account! I can sleep on the floor. My clothes can be kept in boxes!"

Again, Greg had to fight the urge to reach out and touch Nick. He desperately wanted to cup the other man's cheek, or put a hand on his arm. "Nicky, it's okay! I don't put much on credit, and I'll be able to pay this off within a couple of months. Besides, I don't often get to splurge on anyone but myself."

Nick didn't look totally convinced, but he didn't say anything else, just looked at his feet, appearing to be lost in thought.

After setting up same day delivery of the bedroom set, they made a trip back to the Super Wal-Mart. Groceries and bedding were on the list now.

By the time they were done, the trunk and part of the back seat were full.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Clipping the last of the sales tags from his new clothes – which at the moment were in a heap on the bare mattress of his new bed – Nick began the process of folding them and putting them away.

Two packages of sheets, a wrapped blanket, wrapped comforter, and two plastic wrapped pillows sat in a pile by the new dresser he was placing folded jeans into. On the top of the dresser sat the laptop, iPod, CDs, and computer games – all still boxed, or otherwise packaged.

As soon as the delivery men had left, Greg had gone to bed, leaving Nick to the solitude of his own thoughts.

Looking around his newly furnished room, Nick still couldn't believe the amount of money Greg had spent on him. With each of his previous owners, he'd been lucky to have two or three changes of clothes – most of which were already used – and if he was lucky enough to get a bed to sleep in, it was usually old and broken down with threadbare sheets and blankets.

This would be a luxury he would not take for granted. He'd enjoy every moment of it while he could, for surely Greg would come to his senses, realize he'd spent way too much money, and take it all back. That was part of the reason he didn't plan on opening any of the electronics Greg had bought him.

Once he'd finished putting his clothes and toiletries away, Nick fixed the bed.

Not really intending to fall asleep, Nick crawled between the sheets, just wanting to revel in the feeling of new sheets on a new mattress. It had been so comfortable though, that he'd fallen asleep.

His own strangled scream woke him.

Sitting bolt upright in bed, he nearly hit Greg in the face with his forehead, but the other man pulled back just in time. Looking around, it took a moment for his surroundings to register, and the dream to begin to fade.

Rubbing his hands over his face, Nick tried to scrub the remnants of the dream away. As sleep finally subsided, Nick realized that Greg's hand was on the comforter over his knee, and had been for some time.

Greg withdrew his hand, when he noticed Nick's gaze on it. Nick nearly cried out at the loss of contact.

"Nicky?" Greg asked quietly, drawing Nick's gaze to Greg's face. "You okay? You were screaming in your sleep." Greg ran a hand nervously through his sleep tousled hair.

"I'm okay. Sorry I woke you."

"It's okay, almost time to get up anyway." Looking around the room, Greg's eyes rested a moment on the boxes sitting on the dresser. "Your room looks really nice. Hey, you haven't opened your computer or iPod yet."

A sad look crossed Nick's face. "I'm sure you'll want to take them back. You can't do that if they've been opened."

Nick's eyes widened when Greg forced him meet his gaze with a finger under his chin. "They're yours! I don't take gifts back once I've given them!" A new thought occurred to Greg. "Do you know how to use them?"

"I have a general knowledge of computers, from highschool," a pained look crossed Nick's face at the thought of highschool. "I haven't been allowed to use a computer in years, though. All I know about iPods is that they're kind of like a CD player."

Releasing Nick, Greg stood. "Bring your laptop into the kitchen and I'll show you how to use it. It'll take a while to get it customized for you, since this is the first time use, but after that, it's easy. We'll have to download iTunes to use with your iPod, but that's easy, too. Bring your music and games."

In the kitchen, as Greg unpacked the laptop from the packaging, Nick fixed them both a sandwich and soup for dinner.

As Greg worked, he spoke softly under his breath. "Nick's laptop, or Nicky's laptop. Hmm... Nicky's laptop." Nick had to listen carefully to catch what Greg was saying, as the other man was speaking so softly.

Looking over Greg's shoulder at the screen, Nick watched as Greg typed in "Nicky's Laptop" in a box labeled "Computer Name."

"Why do you call me that?" Nick asked very softly from behind Greg. He'd been leaning down, so as he spoke, his breath brushed across Greg's ear.

Jumping slightly, before turning to gaze up at Nick, Greg shrugged. "I don't know. If you don't like it, I'll stop." From the look on Greg's face, though, Nick could tell the other man hoped he wouldn't tell him to stop.

"I- Nobody's called me Nicky in years. My mom..." Nick trailed off, turning abruptly back towards the stove, unwilling to continue.

"Your mom used to call you Nicky," it wasn't a question, but Nick nodded jerkily in acknowledgment anyway.

"It's your right to call me whatever you want," Nick said thickly, fighting back tears.

"No! Dammit! I want to know what _you_ want!" Greg's voice wasn't mad, just emphatic. Nick couldn't believe that in the time he'd been here, Greg hadn't gotten mad at him once. He knew he'd done at least a few things that Greg should have been pissed about, but Greg hadn't once laid a hand on him in anger.

Closing his eyes, Nick murmured, "I like how you call me Nicky." He waited for the blow, sure Greg would sense the deeper meaning in what Nick had said and beat him for it. It didn't come, though. Just another piece of evidence that showed Greg was different.

He heard a partially suppressed sigh from Greg, followed by, "Nicky it is, then." Nick felt sure he heard a smile in the other man's voice.

Dishing out two bowls of soup, he took a plate with one of the bowls and a sandwich to Greg at the table.

After only a slight hesitation, Nick took his own plate to the table and sat down next to Greg, so he could see the computer screen. Greg had insisted Nick sit at the table with him at meal times.

"The operating system is finishing up some configurations to the system. Once that's done, I can go through and get rid of some of the programs you'll never use, and run some updates," Greg explained around a mouthful of sandwich.

As they waited, they ate, neither saying anything. Periodically, Nick would study Greg from the corner of his eye, still unsure of the man who now held his life in his hands.

When Greg abruptly turned toward him, Nick was nearly caught in the act of watching Greg. He turned his eyes to the computer screen just in time, though.

"I'd really like to know about your past, Nicky," Greg's quiet request made Nick stiffen. The look he shot Greg spoke of a deer in the headlights. This had been his response to the request the night before, as well.

Nick thought about all of the times he'd wished there was someone he could tell. The simple – if painful – truth was that he was a slave, and as such, no one would believe him. He was sure Greg wouldn't, either.

When the quiet had dragged on, Greg finally said, "It's okay. You don't have to tell me anything."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Greg was awakened by a pounding on the apartment door. His instinct that he hadn't been asleep long was confirmed when he glanced at his alarm clock and saw he'd only been asleep for a little over an hour.

Groaning, he crawled out of bed, shouting an irritated, "Just a minute," when the person pounded on the door again.

As he passed Nick's room, he saw the door standing open but no sign of the other man.

Still heading for the door, he recalled that as he was coming in from work, Nick had been on his way out the door to go jogging.

Nick had proudly displayed the awkwardly drawn shooting star on his cheek. It wasn't perfect, but it was passable for being the first time Nick had drawn it on himself. It had made Greg's heart skip a beat to see how happy Nick was while displaying the sigil. He hoped Nick was okay.

He opened the door just as a fist was about to pound on it again.

Blinking owlishly in the bright morning light, Greg glanced between the two uniformed officers standing on his doorstep. They were both big bruisers of men. The same height as Greg, but broad shouldered with bulging biceps. The name tag of one read Hernandez, and the other was Schultz.

"Hey, guys. What's up?" He didn't recognize either officer from any of the regulars that stopped in at the lab from time to time.

"Greg Sanders?" they didn't seem to know him, either.

"Yeah," was his wary response. "I didn't miss a call from Grissom, did I?"

"You know Dr. Grissom?" Hernandez asked with a raised brow.

"Gil's my supervisor. I'm head of DNA," Greg explained a bit impatiently. "What's this about?"

Schultz turned and pointed toward their squad car, "That your slave?"

"Oh, shit! Nicky!" Greg exclaimed, pushing past the officers in his rush to get to the squad car, where Nick sat huddled in the backseat.

Getting closer, Greg could see that Nick had a black eye, a split lip, and a bloody nose.

"What happened?" Greg asked, as he opened the back door of the car and knelt beside Nick.

"He was running away," one of the officers – Greg wasn't sure which, since his back was to them – said. "He tried to get away from us."

"I wasn't asking you!" Greg found himself snapping at the officer.

"Nicky? What happened?" he asked gently. Greg gently used two fingers to turn Nick's head toward him, so Nick was looking at him.

"I was just out jogging. They stopped me. I tried to explain. Was almost back home. Asked them to bring me to you, so you could tell them. Didn't have a permission slip, so they didn't believe me. They said they'd bring me back home, after they taught me a lesson. They hit me," Nick said brokenly, wincing at the pain in his split lip.

Pulling Nick gently out of the cruiser, he told Nick quietly, "Go in and get my cell phone."

Rounding on the two unis, Greg kept his voice deliberately low, but his eyes flashed dangerously, "I think Captain Brass is going to be quite interested to know what his officers do for fun while on duty!"

Greg wasn't an easily angered man. To say he was pissed off right now would have been a major understatement. The two officers visibly paled.

When Nick came back a few moments later, he handed the phone to Greg, then moved so Greg was between him and the officers. Greg didn't see any signs of fear in Nick's eyes, just a wariness that spoke of resignation to his fate.

Only taking his furious glare from the officers long enough to find the number he wanted, Greg scrolled down his contacts list, and pushed the send button. Putting the phone to his ear, he listened to it ring a few times before a tired voice said, "Grissom."

"Griss. This is Greg. Sorry to call so late, but I need Brass's number."

"Greg?" Grissom's voice asked in confusion.

"Yeah, you know. Head of DNA."

"Yes, Greg. I know," Grissom was more awake now, his usual blunt, no-nonsense manner firmly in place. "Why do you need Jim's number, though?"

Being in DNA, the only people Greg interacted with on a routine basis tended to be the CSIs and other lab techs. While he knew Brass, he wasn't close enough to the homicide detective to have his cell phone number.

"I need to file a formal complaint about two of his officers." The sound of Greg's voice brooked no argument from Grissom, who gave him the number.

A moment later, Greg had dialed the number Grissom gave him and was listening to it ring.

"Brass," came the detective's voice, just about as tired as Grissom's had been, but a bit more alert.

"Captain Brass, this is Greg Sanders, head of DNA. I need to file a complaint about two unis," Greg gritted out.

"What happened?"

Greg explained, and Brass asked for his address.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," was his terse response.

When Brass got out of his Taurus a few minutes later, he took in the scene.

The two unis stood facing Greg, while Nick stood behind him, head bowed. It was clear from the look on Greg's face that he was furious.

Greg turned toward the detective, nodding in greeting, "Captain Brass."

"Sanders," was Brass's curt reply. "Now, you want to tell me why I should believe him," at this Brass motioned toward Nick with a nod of his head, "over two uniformed officers?"

"Because I trust him, Brass. I wouldn't let him go jogging if I didn't!"

"Why didn't he have a permission slip, then?"

"That was my fault! It _won't_ happen again! Those two had _no_ right to do what they did. Nick told them where he lives. They should have brought him straight here, not beat him up first! He offered no resistance!"

Brass cast a quick glance at the two officers before looking carefully at Nick.

Throughout the conversation, Nick had been standing behind Greg, eyes downcast, as decorum demanded.

"Look at me, please, son," Brass commanded quietly.

Nick glanced up at Greg, who nodded reassuringly, then looked at Brass.

Nick's nose and lip had stopped bleeding, but his eye was darkening into a brilliant black and blue.

"Hold up your hands, please," Brass requested next.

When Nick help up his hands, a puzzled look on his face, Brass inspected them carefully. "No signs of resistance. He didn't fight back!"

Brass rounded on his officers, nearly shouting this time, "He didn't fight back!"

Greg was glad he wasn't on the receiving end of that tirade.

"You're both suspended for a week, no pay!" Brass bellowed angrily. "The department will _not_ be held liable for property damages!"

With a muttered, "Thanks Brass!" as the two officers got in their patrol car and drove away, Greg took Nick gently by the arm and lead him back to the apartment. "Wasn't exactly the reaction I wanted from Brass, but the results were the same," he said softly, the anger finally beginning to cool. "Let's get you cleaned up."

As Greg tended to Nick's split lip, and cleaned dried blood from Nick's nose, he said, "I'm so sorry! Shit! I didn't think about writing you a note of permission, and I should have. I'll make sure you have one before you go jogging again."

Unsure what to say, Nick just sat on the closed toilet seat and let Greg clean the blood from his face.

In the guise of cleaning Nick's face, Greg allowed the side of his index finger to brush down the corner of Nick's mouth.

Before sending Nick off to bed, Greg retrieved a couple of pain pills from the bottle in the medicine cabinet and filled a small cup from beside the sink with water.

"This will help with the pain and swelling," he said, as he handed them to Nick.

As Greg turned to exit the bathroom, he heard Nick quietly say, "I was taken in an illegal search and seizure my junior year of highschool."

His left hand resting on the door jam, Greg looked back over his shoulder at Nick. Astonishment and disbelief were written all over his face, but Nick didn't see because he was staring at his feet.

"Nicky?"

Still looking at his feet, Nick added, "My dad was a Supreme Court judge in Texas. He was falsely accused of being corrupt. Th- they came to the house in the middle of the night. Took a lot of my parents' property, and me."

The look Nick gave Greg, when he finally looked up at him, nearly broke Greg's heart. The relief of finally baring his soul to someone he felt would believe him was evident in Nick's eyes.

That look was what finally caused Greg to lose control. Spinning on his heel, he went to Nick and knelt in front of him again. Laying a hand tenderly on Nick's cheek, Greg reassured the other man, "I believe you."

Greg suddenly found himself with his arms full of Nick, as the other let out a half sobbed, "Thank you!" Just as quickly, Nick pulled back again, turning his head so Greg couldn't see the tears shimmering in his eyes. Or the pleased look that was at odds with the tears.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Gilbert Grissom – Grissom, Gil, or even Griss, to his friends and coworkers – sat at his desk in his office at the Las Vegas Crime Lab. At times like this, he absolutely hated being a supervisor. He was admittedly not a people person, and Catherine Willows – his assistant supervisor – was constantly reminding him to be more politic. Give him a crime scene and bugs, he'd take them over paperwork any day.

Case related paperwork he didn't mind so much. It came with the territory, after all. It was requisitions and evaluations he hated filling out.

He'd come in an hour early for his shift just to try to put a dent in the pile of paperwork littering his desk. Now his hour was nearly up, and he was no closer to putting a dent in it than he had been an hour ago. To top it all off, he could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on, and could only pray it didn't turn into a migraine.

Setting aside the file folder he'd been working on, Grissom leaned back in his chair with a sigh. Pulling off his glasses, he set them on the folder, and rubbed his eyes.

A light knock on his open door had him stifling a groan of annoyance.

Grabbing his glasses as he straightened back up in his seat, Grissom looked towards the door. "Need something, Greg?"

"Hey, boss. Got a few minutes?" Greg asked, stepping into the office. He held several papers in his hand.

"Are those the dependant forms?" Grissom asked, motioning at the pages Greg held. He hoped that was all Greg needed. He wasn't sure he could stand the DNA specialist's eccentric personality right now, what with the brewing headache.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah," Greg replied a bit distractedly, looking blankly down at the forms in his hand for a moment, before handing them to Grissom.

Grissom had been a bit shocked the night before, when Greg had come in and asked about having a dependant added to his insurance. Finding out the dependant was a slave Greg had bought on a whim had surprised Grissom even more. Though it really shouldn't have. He knew Greg's parents were wealthy, so it wouldn't surprise him to find that they had household slaves. Why shouldn't Greg have one here in Vegas?

While Grissom didn't much care for the reintroduction of slavery, he didn't speak out against it as long as the slaves themselves were treated right. Knowing Greg as he did from the lab, Grissom had no doubts that Greg would treat the slave he'd bought well. That feeling was reinforced by the fact that Greg was willing to pay a higher insurance premium to have his slave added to his health insurance.

Coming back to himself a moment later, Grissom was surprised to see Greg still standing there, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

"Something wrong, Greg?"

"Can I ask a favor?"

Realizing he wasn't getting rid of Greg that easily, Grissom reached into the mini fridge behind him and pulled out a plastic container of chocolate covered grasshoppers. Removing the lid, he held the container out to Greg in invitation, but the lab tech declined with a shake of his head.

Shrugging, Grissom took a grasshopper out and popped it into his mouth, crunching into the delicacy before replying, "It depends on what the favor is, I guess."

"Nick finally opened up to me this morning, told me something disturbing."

"Nick?" Grissom asked in confusion.

Gesturing at the papers on Grissom's desk, Greg responded, "My dependant."

"Oh. What was it he said?"

"He said he was taken in an illegal search and seizure. His dad, a Supreme Court judge in Texas, was falsely accused of being corrupt. Could you run his name through the databases, see what comes up?" Greg's face held a hopeful expression. To Grissom, the energetic genius's usual personality seemed suppressed by some emotion Grissom couldn't quite thumb down.

"I can't promise you anything. If I have a spare minute or two, I'll see what comes up. His full name in here?" Grissom said, gesturing at the forms on his desk.

A smile lit up Greg's face, and Grissom groaned inwardly, and thought to himself, _There's Greg! I'm not going into DNA tonight, if I can help it._

"Thank you, Griss!" Greg said, as he nearly skipped out of the office towards his lab. He nearly collided with Warrick Brown, who jumped out of the way, then turned to watch Greg with a bemused look on his face.

Later that night, Grissom found himself with little to do. It seemed criminals in Vegas had declared a holiday tonight. Other than a B & E off the strip – which he'd assigned Warrick Brown to – there was little else going on, so Grissom had sent home the other CSIs, Catherine Willows, Sara Sidle, and Holly Gribbs, reminding them to keep their cells close in case things changed.

Pulling a slip of paper from his pocket, Grissom settled down at the computer in the deserted A/V lab.

After signing into the computer, Grissom used the mouse to open the program he needed. Tapping in the name from the slip of paper, Grissom made a few selections from the list of databases, then clicked search.

There was precious little information about one Nick Stokes. He did find a digitized birth certificate – amazing in and of itself because of the sheer amount of man power needed to scan every birth record in the state of Texas back to at least 1971. The birth certificate gave Grissom the names of Nick's parents, so at least he would have another angle to search.

Grissom also perused through Nick's school records. Nick was at least telling the truth about when he'd become a slave. School information about Nick just stopped during his junior year of highschool. Before that, Nick had been an All Star champion in both baseball and football. Texas A & M had even offered him a scholarship and early enrollment to play football for them.

The only information available after Nick's junior year was a link suggesting he contact the Slave Trade Association.

That pretty much meant Grissom would get no information about Nick's prior owners. In some areas of the country, the slave trade was so still so controversial that owners needed their privacy maintained to ensure their safety. Thus, the Slave Trade Association.

Without a court order, Grissom would get nothing from them, so he moved on.

Tapping in William Stokes, he waited to see what would come up about Nick's father.

The Austin Police Department had digitized versions of Bill Stokes's interrogation and trial, and there was a detailed list of confiscated personal property. Grissom downloaded it all.

Cuing up the interrogation, Grissom started with that.

_The camera had been set to record even before Bill Stokes was brought into the room. It was taking two uniformed officers to drag the struggling, yelling man into the room, and force him down into the chair across from the camera._

_As the officers struggled with their suspect, he was yelling, "Where's my son! What the hell do you think you're doing! There was no warrant! You have no right!"_

_A plain clothes detective came in a moment later, sitting across from Bill Stokes. A humorless smile settled on his face, as he said, "Judge Morris sends his regards, Mister Stokes."_

_Bill's mouth snapped shut with an audible click, and all the color drained from his face._

"_He also said to tell you that you'll be disrobed, disbarred, and thrown in prison for the rest of your life, for your crimes."_

"_Oh, dear God! It wasn't me! It was him! You have to believe me! It was Judge Morris! He's setting me up!" there was desperation in the man's eyes. Grissom couldn't tell if it was the desperation of a truly innocent man, or of a guilty one who's realized he's been caught._

_The detective leaned across the table, and whispered something in the judge's ear. It was too low for the crappy microphone on the camera to pick up, at least so that Grissom could hear it without enhancing the audio. If it was possible, Bill Stokes paled even further, though._

_A tortured, "Please! No!" escaped his lips. "I'll confess! I'll say whatever you want, but please, let Nick go and leave the rest of my family out of this!"_

The rest of the interrogation was a fairly typical question/answer session dealing with what the judge was confessing to.

It all seemed pretty straight forward, but just to be sure, Grissom decided to see if he could determine what the detective had whispered to the judge.

Pulling up the program the lab used for enhancing audio, he imported the interrogation video.

Some hours later, Grissom removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose in exhaustion.

He was getting no where with the audio from the interrogation. It wasn't that the whispered words weren't there, because they were. It was just that the microphone on the camera hadn't picked them up enough for him to enhance them with any clarity.

Looking at the clock, Grissom decided to call it quits for this shift. He'd come back to it the next time he had some free time, try attacking it from a different angle.

Logging off of the computer, he stood and stretched aching muscles.

On his way back to his office, Grissom stopped in the DNA lab, not at all surprised to see Greg still hard at work. For a change, he didn't have his music blaring for all to hear.

The young tech looked up from the microscope he'd been intently gazing through, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Hey, Griss! Haven't seen you all night! Got something for me to process?"

With a sigh, Grissom replied, "Not in the forensic sense of the word. I started working on that favor for you."

"Oh?" Wary curiosity replaced Greg's smile. "Started? So you think there's something to what Nick told me?"

"I'm not sure. The interrogation of Nick's father seemed on the up-and-up, except the detective whispered something to him at one point. I spent most of the night trying to enhance the audio, find out what he said. Didn't get anything, but I'm not giving up yet."

"Oh, okay," a disappointed look flitted across Greg's face, to be quickly replaced by a grateful smile, "Thanks! This means a lot to me."

"You should know, Bill Stokes, Nick's father, died in prison last year. Prostate cancer."

"Oh, no!" Greg's smile fell away, and Grissom could see an incredible sadness take up residence in the younger man's eyes.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"As much as I don't want to cause him more pain than he's already been through, he has a right to know. Thank you, Grissom."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

When Greg let himself into the apartment, he found Nick on the couch, enthusiastically playing a video game on the Play Station 2.

Sinking wearily down to the couch, Greg watched as Nick paused his game and turned a near blinding smile in his direction. The dread Greg felt must have been mirrored on his face, because Nick's smile disappeared. To Greg, it was like a cloud had covered the sun.

"Did I do something wrong, Greg?"

Turning to face Nick, putting what he hoped was a reassuring smile on his face, but fearing it looked more like a grimace, Greg said, "No! Never! I- shit! There's no easy way to tell you this, Nicky!" Greg fought to contain the tears that suddenly threatened to fall.

"Greg?" Nick's voice was suddenly small and scared, almost child-like.

"I- I had my boss look into what you told me yesterday morning. Nicky," Greg carefully took Nick's hands in his own, "I have some bad news about your dad."

"Dad?" Nick's voice was a strangled whisper.

"He-" Greg had to clear his throat in an attempt to get past the lump rising in it. "He died last year, in prison. Prostate cancer."

"Ah, no!" Nick doubled over on the couch. He managed to pull his hands free of Greg's grasp, wrapping them tightly around his stomach. He began to rock back and forth, murmuring, "No! Cisco! No!" between sobs.

Scooting over so he was only inches from Nick, Greg put a tentative hand on the other man's shoulder. Nick nearly knocked Greg over, when he abruptly turned and buried his head in Greg's chest, arms wrapping tightly around Greg's waist.

Of their own volition, Greg's hands rubbed up and down Nick's back soothingly. "It's okay. Sh... It'll be okay," Greg murmured into Nick's short hair, before brushing his lips across the stubble.

When his sobs subsided into broken hiccups, Nick finally pulled back. Through his pain, Nick managed a sheepish look, as he realized how he'd broken down. "Sorry. I-" he trailed off, gazing down at his arm, where Greg's hand rested on it.

"Don't worry about it. I would have reacted the exact same way!"

"Did you... I mean, was there any information about my mom? My sisters and brother?"

"I- I don't know. Grissom didn't say anything about the rest of your family. Were they taken, too?" Greg's concern filled gaze locked on Nick's fear filled one.

"My mom was taken to the station for questioning. I don't know what happened to her after that. My sisters and brother are older than me, so they had already moved out of the house. I don't think they were even questioned."

"Do you remember any of their phone numbers? That would at least give us a place to start. Who knows, maybe one of them has kept the same number, even after all these years."

"I- I don't know. Maybe," Nick closed his eyes as he thought. Then opened them and turned to look at Greg. "The only thing that's kept me going all these years was the thought that maybe I'd see my family again someday." Fresh tears pooled in Nick's eyes.

Greg grabbed his cell and handed it to Nick. "Call."

Flipping open the phone uncertainly, Nick punched in the numbers with trembling fingers. After hitting send, he held the device to his ear and listened as it rang. One, two, three times.

Finally, "Hello?" Greg could hear the voice very faintly.

Nick didn't speak immediately, which elicited another, "Hello?"

Then, "Deb?" it was a hoarse near whisper that Greg wasn't sure the woman on the other end would hear. In a slightly louder voice, Nick croaked, "It's me, Nick!"

"Nicky? Nicky!" Greg could hear the woman better this time, as she nearly screamed into the phone. "Oh, my God! Nicky! We thought you were... I mean... Oh, my God!"

"Deb!" Nick sighed out, a huge smile spreading on his face.

Patting Nick on the knee, Greg stood. He murmured, "Talk as long as you want!"

Before he could turn away, Nick latched onto his hand, briefly twining their fingers together, and mouthed, "Thank you!" before releasing Greg's hand and trying to answer all the questions his sister had. Trying to ask questions of his own.

After slipping into bed, Greg quickly drifted off to sleep, as emotional and physical exhaustion overwhelmed him.

A/N: The next chapter will be the reason this story is rated M. So, if you are below the age of 17, or you just don't like reading that kind of thing, skip the next chapter, and go to the one after that!

You have been warned!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Okay, if you are under the age of 17, skip this chapter! This is your last warning! Everyone else, enjoy. :)

Chapter 12

A comforting weight against his back woke Greg some time later.

Shifting, he managed to roll over, so he was now chest to chest with Nick. In the dim light seeping in around the blackout curtains, Greg could see Nick's eyes glittering. The nearness of the other man was intoxicating.

"Nicky?" Greg asked, capturing Nick's hand where it rubbed up and down Greg's leg from hip to thigh and back. Nick twined their fingers together, and brought their hands up so they were trapped between their bare chests.

Glancing down at their clasped hands, Greg looked back up into Nick's eyes. "Is this what _you_ want? Because if you're only doing it because you think it's what I want... Or to thank me for..." he trailed off as Nick's lips brushed across his own.

"I think I've wanted you since the day you bought me," the Texan said huskily, when he pulled back.

"Have you ever... I mean, you were taken so young."

"I think I know what you mean, Greg. I've made out. Mostly with girls, but a couple of guys, too. I was just beginning to figure out my sexuality, at that time. Except for my last owner, none of them let us have sex, but they really couldn't stop us from satisfying ourselves. I never thought of girls when I did that, only guys. My last owner tried to make me..."

Greg didn't let Nick finish, capturing the other man's mouth in a searing kiss, instead. When he pulled back, he growled, "Don't ever talk about the others again," he couldn't even bring himself to call them owners. "You're mine, now!"

"Yours!" Nick agreed, moving Greg's hand to his own hip and releasing it there.

"Forever mine!" Greg growled, rolling to his back, and bringing Nick over top of him.

Their erections rubbed together through the fabric of their pajama bottoms, eliciting needy moans from both men.

Reaching up, Greg curled his fingers around the back of Nick's neck, and pulled him down for another searing kiss. He teased Nick's mouth open with his tongue, invaded the wet heat of Nick's mouth, claiming the new territory as his own. Their tongues touched tentatively at first, then grew bolder.

When Nick pulled back, panting for desperately needed air, Greg reached up and touched Nick's face, as he'd desperately been wanting to do for days now. Quietly, he said, "If I do anything, touch you in any way you don't like, just say stop, and I will."

Leaning down to Greg's bare chest, Nick began to explore it with first his hands, then his lips and tongue. He easily discovered Greg's ticklish spots, and kissed over several spots that had Greg sighing so hard he revisited those spots with his tongue. He explored and teased Greg's nipples, making Greg arch up into his touch with small cries of pleasure.

As Nick worked his way lower down Greg's body, he pushed Greg's pajama bottoms off. Looking down at Greg's exposed hard length, then up at Greg, Nick licked his lips. His eyes smoldered with something Greg couldn't quite put his finger on, but wanted to see again and again.

The look was replaced by a look of uncertainty a moment later, and a quietly uttered, "I'm not sure what to do."

"Take off your pajamas," Greg instructed. As Nick complied, Greg reversed his position on the bed, so his head was in the direction of the footboard.

Laying down on his side, facing Nick, he said, "Scoot down a little." When Nick was in position, Greg said, "There." Now it was Greg's turn to lick his lips at the sight before him. Nick's impressive length was gently pulsing to the beat of Nick's heart. "Follow my lead," Greg instructed.

Leaning in towards Nick, Greg nuzzled into the forest of dark hair surrounding the base of Nick's cock, breathing the other man's scent deep into his lungs. Turning his head to the side, Greg teased Nick's shaft with his lips before licking up the length to dip the tip of his tongue into the pre-cum accumulating in the slit.

Tentative but gentle lips closed over the head of Greg's throbbing cock, and a low groan escaped him.

Nick pulled back again, with a nervous, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Nicky. You could never do anything wrong." Greg's voice was husky with a desire far beyond anything he'd ever felt before. "That felt so good!"

When Nick's mouth closed over him again, Greg had to fight his body's instinct to thrust. He was determined that Nick's first time would be memorable only in good ways. A sigh escaped him again, and he murmured, "Feels so good! Needed this! Needed _you_!"

Taking a grip on the base of Nick's shaft with one hand, he began to toy with Nick's ball sack with the other. With his mouth, he continued to lick up and down the length and around the head of Nick's cock.

Nick's tongue was lapping at Greg's own leaking slit, and Greg knew he wasn't going to last long. Pulling Nick's pulsing cock into his own mouth, he sucked hard. A moan escaped Nick and Greg just barely grabbed Nick's hip in time to stop Nick's instinctive thrust from choking him.

Setting up a slow bobbing rhythm, Greg felt Nick's muscles tighten under his hand, where it still rested on Nick's hip. Nick was close to the edge, too.

Nick's tongue curling around the fold of skin at the edge of Greg's cock head sent him tumbling over the edge. He felt Nick swallow greedily, as he emptied himself into Nick's mouth.

As Nick released Greg, Greg pulled Nick even further into his mouth, and began to hum tunelessly.

With a quiet moan, Nick came in the back of Greg's throat. Greg took it all, swallowing just as greedily as Nick had.

When Greg had swallowed everything Nick had to give, he pulled back. Crawling up the Texan's broad form, he pressed his lips to Nick's.

Opening his mouth to the other man, Nick eagerly met Greg's tongue with his own. The mingling of their tastes had both men sighing in ecstacy.

Finally pulling apart, Greg propped himself on his hands above the other man, so he could gaze into his face.

The contented smile on Nick's face told Greg all he needed to know, but Nick spoke anyway. "Th- that was amazing!"

"That was by no means the best part, either!" Greg smiled down at his lover, one hand stroking the Texan's cheek. Yawning widely, he continued, "I think we'll leave that for another time, though."

Looking suddenly uncertain, Nick moved to get up.

Moving off the other man – not wanting to make Nick feel trapped – Greg tried to hide his disappointed look. A murmured, "Please, don't go!" escaped his mouth before his brain could kick in.

"You don't want me to go to my room?" A hopeful look in Nick's eyes made Greg's heart swell. And he realized that he didn't just want Nick in his bed for sex. He wanted to fall asleep and wake up with him, too. He wanted him there forever and always.

A playful smile settled on Greg's face, "I didn't go to all of the trouble to get you into my bed, only to let you out of it again."

Settling back onto the bed again, Nick let Greg pull him snugly against his chest. Breath ghosting across the back of Nick's neck as he yawned again, Greg murmured quietly, "You are my soul," before drifting off to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The ringing of his cell phone woke Grissom a few hours after he'd fallen asleep.

Grabbing the infernal contraption from his bedside table, he squinted at the front display, trying to discern who would be calling him at this ungodly hour.

The ringing continued as his tired brain tried to process the word "restricted" that flashed across the display.

Flipping open the phone with a tired, "Grissom," he prepared to give some telemarketer a piece of his sleep addled mind.

He never got the chance.

"Doctor Grissom, I suggest you drop your investigation into former Judge Stokes. If you don't, there will be dire consequences for you, Mr. Sanders, and the Stokes boy."

"Who is this?" Grissom demanded, but it was already too late, the caller had hung up.

Wide awake now, with no hope of falling back to sleep because of all of the implications of the phone call, Grissom got out of bed.

Like a dog on a scent, Grissom had been given a puzzle, and he refused to leave it half solved. He didn't mind putting himself in danger, but he would do his best to ensure Greg and Nick were kept safe.

After hurriedly dressing, he picked up his cell phone and dialed Greg's number.

The phone rang a few times before a sleepy voice said, "Hello?" It wasn't Greg's voice.

"Nick? This is Greg's boss, Gil Grissom. Is Greg there?" Curiosity made him wonder why Nick had Greg's phone, but he didn't ask. He expected to have to wait for at least a few minutes, while Nick took the phone to Greg, but he only had to wait seconds.

He was surprised by the quiet, "Greg, you need to wake up. Your boss is on the phone."

Next, he heard sheets rustle, and a groggy, "Hmm? Who'd you say it is, Nicky?" And it dawned on Grissom that Nick was in Greg's bed.

"Your boss," was Nick's quiet response.

Finally, Greg spoke into the phone, "Hey, Grissom?" Greg's voice was as sleep addled as his own had been minutes ago.

"Greg. I had a rather disturbing phone call a few minutes ago."

"Oh? From who?" Grissom could hear the confusion in Greg's voice.

"I don't know, but I didn't like the implications of it. Bring Nick in with you tonight. You'll both be safer at the lab, and I'll talk to you there. I'm going to have Brass send a couple of unis over to your place until you head in."

"Grissom?" the confusion now suffused Greg's voice, along with a touch of fear. "What's going on?"

"I'll talk to you at the lab." Feeling bad about hanging up on Greg, Grissom did it anyway. Now he punched in Brass's number.

Nick had watched Greg's features go from sleep muddled to wide awake and concerned in about five seconds flat while he talked to his boss.

When Greg closed his phone a few seconds later, he dropped it back to the bedside table with a muttered, "Shit!"

"Are you mad that I answered your phone?" Nick asked quietly, figuring that was why Greg had uttered the curse.

"Hmm? What? No! No! No! Something's gotten Grissom scared." With a sigh, he said, "Grissom doesn't scare easily, so it must be serious. I think it's something to do with your dad. He wants me to bring you to the lab with me tonight."

Fear coursed through Nick, and he felt his heart begin to pound. He knew this had seemed to good to be true. Now he was certain he was going to lose this small piece of happiness he had finally gained. Greg would decide to send him away.

He didn't realize a tear had slid down his cheek until Greg's hand was gently brushing it away. "What's wrong, Nicky?"

"You're going to send me away," Nick's voice was hoarse with unshed tears.

Greg took a firm grip on Nick's chin, making him look Greg in the face. "Didn't you hear what I said before we fell asleep this morning?"

"You can't have meant that! I'm a..." he didn't get to finish his sentence, as Greg brought their lips together in a crushing kiss that stole the words away.

When Greg pulled back a moment later, Nick tried to look away again, doubt still heavy in his heart.

"You're a human being, Nick, and the heart wants what it wants!" Greg had leaned forward, so he was looking up at Nick, as Nick tried to hide his pain filled eyes by tilting his head downwards. Placing a tender kiss on Nick's lips between each word, Greg said, "You. Are. My. Soul."

The look in Greg's eyes, when their gazes locked this time, nearly made Nick's heart stop beating. It was a look of such intense, overpowering love that Nick felt certain he should be seared through.

"I could no more send you away than I could cut out my own heart," Greg declared, taking Nick's hand and placing it above his heart. "This is yours! _I_ am yours!"

"Mine?" Nick asked in wondrous disbelief.

"Forever yours, just like you are forever mine."

"Forever mine!" Nick said with more confidence, his hand still covering Greg's heart, warm skin touching warm skin. The steady beat of Greg's heart coursing up Nick's arm, and deep into his very soul.

The sigh Greg released sounded like a sigh of relief to Nick, and a slow smile spread across both of their faces.

Emboldened, Nick pushed Greg back on the bed, covering the lithe man's body with his own.

As Nick was kissing Greg's neck, Greg huskily said, "God, Nicky! Never want to stop touching you! Want you so bad!" But he did gently push Nick away, murmuring, "Later! I promise! Going to make you feel so good! Right now, I need to find out what has Grissom so worried."

Pulling Nick off the bed with him, Greg pushed him towards the door. "Go get dressed, gather your laptop and iPod. Then bring me the gel pens."

As Nick walked down the hall towards his room, he shivered in anticipation of having Greg's hands on him again. The whole idea behind the shooting star seemed to take on a deeper meaning that went both ways. No longer only a declaration of ownership of one person over another, it was a declaration to the world that their hearts belonged to each other.

A/N: Wanted to do one more update before I take a short (hopefully just a few days) break from this story to get a one-shot done for 11x05 House of Hoarders. Never fear, I'll get back to this one as quickly as possible, though.

To everyone who's left a review, added the story to favorites, or alerted the story, I want to say a huge THANK YOU! I think this has become one of my most popular stories to date!


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Greg had just begun drawing the shooting star on Nick's cheek when there was a knock on the door.

Giving Nick a quick kiss on the lips, he said a breathy, "Be right back," and went to answer the door. Looking out the peep hole, Greg caught sight of Officer Mitchell. He had seen the African American officer at the lab several times, and knew the officer worked closely with Captain Brass and the CSIs.

Opening the door, Greg said, "Officer Mitchell, please, come in."

"Greg," the officer replied, turning briefly to give his partner – who was sitting in their squad car out front – a thumbs up.

Closing the door behind Officer Mitchell, Greg motioned to the livingroom. "Make yourself comfortable, Nick and I are almost ready to go. Just give me a few more minutes."

Greg went back into the kitchen, where he'd left Nick sitting on a kitchen chair. Picking up a gel pen, Greg continued to decorate Nick's cheek.

When he finished, Greg laid a hand over Nick's ink free cheek, his thumb rubbing over Nick's lips. A low keening sound of need escaped Greg's lips before he could control himself. Finally, taking a shaky breath, he murmured, "Forever mine! My soul!"

Nick put his hand over Greg's, twining their fingers together. Turning his face slightly, Nick ghosted his lips across Greg's wrist, eliciting the keening sound from Greg again. Nick's eyes closed, as he listened to the sound Greg made, and Greg could only imagine what Nick was thinking.

With a soft sigh, Greg managed to pull himself together with a muttered, "It's going to be a _very_ long shift." Pulling Nick to his feet, Greg said, "Come on, we'd better go."

Back in the livingroom, Greg made sure Nick picked up his laptop and iPod, before saying, "Okay, Officer Mitchell, we're ready to go."

The officer walked them out to Greg's car. "Drive straight to the crime lab. We'll follow you. If we get separated for any reason, just keep driving to the lab, don't stop," he instructed, then made sure Greg had started the car and locked the doors before walking to the patrol car.

At the lab, Officer Mitchell escorted them from the car to the parking garage elevator.

Greg headed to Grissom's office first, but the graveyard shift supervisor wasn't there yet, so he took Nick to the break room.

The room was deserted, when they walked in.

Greg was in the process of setting up the coffee machine to brew a pot of Blue Hawaiian, when Warrick Brown walked in.

"You're not supposed to be in here," Warrick's voice boomed through the room, his eyes locked on Nick. Nick had been sitting at the table, idly fiddling with his laptop, not sure if he should turn it on yet, or wait, as he knew this wouldn't be where he would be staying for Greg's shift.

Nick scrambled to his feet, eyes downcast, stammering, "I'm sorry. My master..."

Greg stopped him with a hand on his arm. Eyeing the African American CSI, Greg said, "Is right here. He's allowed to be here, Warrick."

"Sorry, Sanders. Didn't see you there," Warrick relaxed visibly, now just eyeing Nick curiously. "Didn't know you owned."

"I've only had him a few days," Greg told the green eyed man. Rubbing Nick's arm reassuringly, Greg murmured, "It's okay, Nicky. You can sit back down."

Warrick's gaze wandered to Greg's hand on Nick's arm, before meeting Greg's gaze again.

The challenge in Greg's eyes was unmistakable to the experienced CSI. Tossing a thumb over his shoulder, he said, "You know, I think Mandy may have something for me on some prints I pulled at a scene last night."

After watching Warrick disappear around the corner down the hall, Greg let out a sigh, feeling himself deflate. He wasn't at all certain he could have taken Warrick, if the older man had decided to make a scene. He liked to think he might have stood a chance, though. After all, he was only an inch shorter than Warrick, and the older man really wasn't that much broader than Greg.

"You probably shouldn't touch me like that in public, Master," Nick's voice was low, an uncertain edge in it. Greg had expected fear, but there was none, just an unmistakable protectiveness in Nick's voice.

Kneeling down to Nick's eye level, since Nick had resumed his seat, Greg traced Nick's jaw line with his fingers.

"I'll touch you whenever, wherever, I want. I really don't give a shit what anyone else thinks!" To prove his point, Greg straightened, took Nick's hand in his and towed the other man out of the break room behind him. "Grissom should be in his office by now."

Grissom set aside the requisition form he'd been eyeing, when he saw Greg standing in his doorway. His slave, Nick, stood behind him, one hand clutched tightly in one of Greg's.

Raising an eyebrow at his confirmed suspicion from earlier, Grissom called out, "Come in and close the door behind you, Greg."

Doing as his boss had instructed, Greg closed the door, then moved to stand in front of Grissom's desk, Nick still behind him.

"Grissom." Greg's eyes, while still clear and bright, held known of the usual twinkle of mischievousness they usually held.

"Greg," Grissom nodded at the two visitor's chairs, "Have a seat." Grissom eyed Nick curiously, as he might study an interesting bug specimen.

"Grissom, this is Nick. Nicky, this is my boss, Gil Grissom," Greg formally introduced the two, pulling Nick around so he was standing beside Greg.

"Nick," Grissom acknowledged.

"Sir," was Nick's polite response. His eyes were locked on the top of Grissom's desk.

"You can call me Grissom, Nick."

"Thank you, s- Mr. Grissom," Nick responded.

Grissom didn't correct Nick about using the honorific mister. He could see Nick was already nervous enough, and didn't want to make him more so. Looking over at Greg, Grissom saw worry filling the DNA tech's caramel eyes.

"I'm going to have the two of you put in protective custody," Grissom began.

Greg sat forward on his chair anxiously, but didn't say anything. He knew Grissom well enough to know the supervisor would explain more quickly if he didn't fire off a dozen questions at him.

"I received a threatening phone call early this morning. The caller threatened the three of us with dire consequences if I didn't stop looking into Nick's father."

"But that must mean," Greg began, at the same time Nick said, "You must stop. Don't put your lives in danger because of me!" Nick's eyes had locked on Greg's face, and Grissom could see terror in the man's features. Terror not for himself, but for Greg.

Grissom shot a look of compassion Nick's way before turning back to Greg. "I'm not going to give up on this. That call tells me that something isn't right about what happened to Nick's father. I also do _not_ leave puzzles unsolved. You should both be safe here through your shift, Greg. After shift, you'll be escorted home to pack, then you'll be taken to a hotel where you'll have officers outside your door twenty-four seven."

Nick shot a panicked look at Greg, "Master, please!"

Grissom watched as Greg took Nick's hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "You can trust Grissom, Nicky. He'll keep us safe."

When Nick shyly met Grissom's gaze, Grissom smiled and gave him a small nod of assurance.

Looking over at Greg again, Grissom said, "If you don't mind, Greg, I'd like to talk to Nick, take a statement about what happened the night he was taken."

Glancing over at Nick, Greg replied, "It's fine with me, as long as Nick's okay with it."

Grissom noted Nick's knuckles turn white as the young man squeezed his master's hand tightly, but Nick gave a small nod of acceptance.

Standing, Greg looked across Grissom's desk into his analytical blue eyes. "I don't want him left alone, boss. Warrick nearly had a fit in the break room because he thought Nick was there alone."

"Don't worry, Greg. As soon as we're done, I'll bring him to your lab."

Leaning down in front of Nick, so they were at eye level, Greg said, "Tell Grissom whatever he wants to know. I'll see you later." Brushing his lips across Nick's forehead, Greg gently pulled his hand free of Nick's grip and left the office.

Nick had twisted around in his chair to watch Greg leave, and had only turned back around when Greg disappeared from sight. He sat nervously, eyes on the floor between his feet.

"Look at me, please, Nick," Grissom's quiet voice broke the silence a moment later.

Nick complied instantly, unwilling to test the man in front of him.

Grissom smiled reassuringly. "Thank you, Nick. I like to make eye contact with whomever I speak with. Now, I know it's been a long time, but I need you to tell me everything you remember from the night you were taken." Shuffling a few papers around, Grissom found a legal pad and pulled it in front of him. He also pulled a digital voice recorder from his desk and set it to record their conversation.

"I'll never forget that night, as long as I live," Nick spoke softly, but Grissom could sense a rage behind the words that could be the only reason Nick hadn't been broken throughout his years as a slave. "They pulled me out of bed in the middle of the night. I tried to fight back, but the two officers were bigger than me." He laughed ironically, "Two men, bigger than the star quarterback of his highschool football team!" The laugh faded, and he continued, "My mom was screaming. My dad was yelling that there was no warrant. Things were breaking downstairs."

Grissom was jotting down notes, eyes darting between his notepad and Nick's face. Nick's eyes had taken on a far away look, as he thought back to another lifetime.

"Someone said I would be adequate for partial restitution payment. Someone else came in and said they'd found my dad's safe. The first guy handed the other one an envelope and said to make sure the contents were included with the contents of my dad's safe."

A tear wound its way down Nick's cheek, but he didn't move to wipe it away. "My dad cussed at them. He never cusses! Then my mom screamed again, and there was this awful pain in the back of my neck, and I was falling. Everything just went black, after that. When I came to, I was at a slave master's training facility."

Grissom asked a few clarification questions, then said, "Thank you, Nick."

Setting his pen aside, Grissom leaned forward with his elbows resting on his desk. His intense gaze locked on Nick, and he could tell the younger man was fighting the urge to squirm under his look.

"In all likely hood, you'll be freed, after this is over with."

Nick's eyes widened, and he gripped the arms of the chair he sat in.

"You should talk to Greg about what you'd like to do, when that happens. Before you were taken, had you thought about what you wanted to do as an adult?" Grissom watched as emotions flitted across Nick's face almost like storm clouds across the sky.

"I had planned to go to Texas A&M. I wanted to major in Criminology. I was even going to join the police force." Nick's voice was so low, Grissom had to strain to hear it. He could imagine the younger man didn't want to voice his dreams, only to have them shattered.

"You'll need to finish highschool, first. Talk to Greg. I have the feeling he'd be overjoyed if you decided to stay with him. He'd probably help you get your highschool diploma. Then come back and talk to me. I think I can help you get a scholarship to UNLV. If your grades are good after your first semester, I think I can get you an internship here."

"You'd do that for me?" the incredulity in Nick's voice spoke of a distrust no human being should have against another.

"Somehow, I have the feeling that if I didn't, my top DNA technician would just follow you. I really don't want to lose Greg." Grissom spoke simple words of truth that he figured Nick would be more likely to believe. "In the short time he's had you, he's become very attached to you. I just don't want to see him hurt." He paused for a moment, letting his words settle into Nick's brain. "Come on. I'll take you to Greg in the DNA lab, now."

After dropping Nick off with Greg, Grissom headed to the A/V lab.

He'd had an idea for a way to discover what the detective had whispered to Bill Stokes, and he was eager to try it out.

After settling in front of the computer, Grissom replayed the recording of the interrogation. As he had absentmindedly observed previously, there was a window behind the judge. It had no blinds on it, and the way the light shown on it created a nearly perfect reflection of the room.

Cuing up the time stamp he wanted, he zoomed in on the reflection of the detective's face.

Then he let the video play out.

"If you don't take the fall and confess the crimes as yours, we'll take not only your youngest son, but your youngest two daughters, too. Nick will have a hard life as a manual labor slave, but your daughters would have even harder lives as pleasure slaves," Grissom read from the man's lips.

The rest of his shift, Grissom spent trying to track down a name for the detective on the video. Grissom was pretty sure the detective would have a ready excuse for not identifying himself at the start of the interrogation – probably something about the heat of the moment – but he was pretty sure it had been intentionally done.

A/N: Okay, next chapter will be another one for those under 17 to skip!


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Again, if you're below the age of 17, please skip this chapter!

Chapter 15

Time seemed to crawl by for Greg. Being so close to Nick, but unable to touch him was making him half crazy.

After Grissom brought Nick to the lab, Greg had cleared a section of table off for Nick to put his laptop on.

A steady stream of blood evidence kept Greg running samples steadily throughout the night. When he wasn't running samples, he was chasing off curious lab techs and CSIs.

Now it was time to leave, and he was more than ready. His body thrummed in anticipation.

Nick had looked his way repeatedly the entire night, this sweet little smile on his face. So now, Greg just hoped he could hang on until they got to the hotel. They still had to stop by the apartment and pack, and he'd be damned if he'd give in with a police officer in the next room.

The ride to the apartment was uneventful. Greg checked his mirror several times to assure himself that the patrol car was still there. It was.

In the apartment, Greg handed Nick a duffel bag and huskily said, "Pack enough for a week. Hurry, or I just might take you right here!" then followed his own advice.

Back in the livingroom, the patrol officer, Jenkins, told Greg, "You're booked at the Vegas Oasis," then gave him directions.

Twenty minutes later, Greg dropped his bags to the floor just inside the door. He then took Nick's bags and set them next to his own, before pushing the other man up against the wall.

"Finally have you to myself," Greg growled in Nick's ear, before nipping at the skin just below Nick's earlobe. "It was driving me crazy not to touch you!"

A low moan escaped Nick's mouth, and his arms snaked around Greg's waist, pulling the taller man flush against him. When Greg ground his hips against Nick's, their arousals brushing together, Nick's head fell back, bumping against the wall.

Trailing kisses along Nick's jaw to his mouth, Greg pulled Nick away from the wall and towards the bed. Tugging Nick's shirt from his jeans, Greg yanked it off over his lover's head. Next, Greg's hands found their way to the fly of Nick's jeans. Within moments, he had rid Nick of his jeans and underwear, as well.

Pushing Nick down to the bed, Greg trailed kisses back down Nick's neck to his chest. Teasing one nipple to a pert peak with his tongue elicited a breathy, "Greg!"

Now Nick was helping Greg get rid of his own clothes. First removing Greg's shirt, then fumbling with his jeans. Greg pulled a couple of items from his jeans pocket before fully removing them.

Setting the lube and condom aside on the night stand, Greg sprawled over Nick. Engaging in another searing kiss, Greg allowed his hands to roam over Nick's chest and sides, up and down Nick's arms, over the softening stubble on Nick's head.

Nick's hands found their way to Greg's ass, pulling him even closer, their leaking erections rubbing together, providing much needed friction.

Resting his forehead against Nick's, Greg murmured, "I want to be in you. Is that okay?"

Nick's tentative nod, and breathy, "Yes!" elicited a relieved, "Thank God!" from Greg.

Retrieving the small bottle of lube from the night stand, Greg sat back on his knees between Nick's legs. "I promise to be gentle, but it still might hurt. If it's too much, tell me, and I'll stop."

Biting his lower lip nervously, Nick nodded.

Gently positioning Nick's legs so his knees were bent and his feet were flat on the bed, Greg leaned in and kissed Nick's right knee. He trailed kisses down the inside of Nick's thigh. After coating his fingers with lube, he trailed them around Nick's entrance. He could feel the tension build in Nick's body, and whispered, "Relax."

Still caressing Nick's hole, Greg began to play with Nick's incredibly hard cock, licking up and down the sensitive flesh. As Greg drew Nick's mind to the pleasure his shaft was receiving, he could feel the other man begin to relax.

Slowly pushing one finger in, Greg felt Nick begin to tense again. Stilling his finger, Greg dipped his tongue into Nick's slit, gathering the accumulated pre-cum into his mouth.

Moaning in satisfaction, Greg murmured, "You taste _so_ fucking good, Nicky! Don't think I'll ever get enough of you!"

Nick relaxed again, and Greg pushed his finger farther in. This time, Nick let out a small cry of pleasure, and a soft, "Please! More!"

Greg had to put a hand on Nick's thigh to restrain him from pushing down on Greg's hand, as he worked two fingers into Nick's tight opening.

"I don't want to hurt you! Stay still!" Greg gently admonished Nick.

Nick stilled, but he met Greg's eyes and Greg could see Nick's almost desperate need to be fully claimed.

His two fingers working in and out of Nick, Greg leaned forward and claimed Nick's mouth in a desperate kiss.

When Greg's fingers brushed Nick's prostate, Nick let out a small cry of pleasure, his back arching off the bed. "Oh, God! Please, Greg, do that again!"

Meeting Nick's eyes with a look of pure love, Greg managed, "With pleasure," in such a way that it sounded like a cat's purr.

Nick winced in discomfort when Greg added a third finger, but he didn't ask Greg to stop. Instead, he allowed the pain to roll off of him, so the pleasure could consume him.

Taking his time, Greg carefully prepared Nick for a much larger intrusion. The whole while, his mouth and tongue worked across Nick's throbbing cock.

Moving up to kiss Nick again, he whispered in Nick's ear, "Are you ready?"

"Please!" was Nick's eager response.

Reaching for the condom, Greg said, "Get on your hands and knees."

After rolling the condom down his achingly hard length, Greg nearly made himself cum from rubbing lube all over his latex covered length.

Positioning himself at Nick's entrance, Greg gripped his lover's hips and slowly began to push inside. He paused often, allowing Nick to adjust.

When Greg was finally buried to the hilt, he gently pulled Nick up so Nick was sitting on his lap, back flush against his chest. Wrapping his arms around Nick, he leaned his head against Nick's back, listening to his lover's steady heartbeat.

"My soul!" he sighed, as he just held Nick close for a moment.

Finally, Greg moved his hands. One arm wrapped firmly around Nick's waist, holding him close. The other grasped Nick's shaft.

Moving slowly at first, Greg began to thrust into Nick.

Nick twined the fingers of one hand into the fingers of Greg's hand around his waist, while the other hand covered Greg's hand on his cock. He leaned his head back onto Greg's shoulder, twisting his head so their mouths met in an awkward, sloppy kiss.

"Greg," Nick cried out softly, and Greg felt Nick's muscles tighten around him, milking him, as they both reached their peak together.

Nick's cum spurted into Greg's hand, while Greg's filled the tip of the condom, where it was buried deep inside Nick's body.

Pulling Nick gently free, Greg allowed a wide smile to take hold of his face, as Nick collapsed in a boneless puddle on his side.

After cleaning them both up, Greg let his fingers trail across Nick's cheek. "I didn't hurt you too much, did I?"

"It was perfect!" Nick said with a sigh, which turned into a yawn. "Can we do it again when we wake up?" Greg figured that since Nick hadn't really been allowed the young and horny stage, he'd probably go through it now. He could live with that.

After kissing Nick's cheek, Greg pulled Nick against him and whispered into his ear, "As often as you want, for as long as you want. Good night, Nicky. I love you!"

"Love you, too!" Nick mumbled, as sleep claimed him.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

His cell phone vibrating against the night stand woke him a few hours later.

Grabbing the phone and glancing at the call display while carefully detangling himself from Nick, Greg noted the unfamiliar number before flipping it open and saying a quiet, "Hello?" He wasn't worried that it would be Grissom's threatening caller, as Grissom had told him the number had come up as restricted on his phone.

Crossing the room to the small table and chairs, Greg sank down in one of the chairs so he could watch Nick while he talked. A relieved smile settled on his face, when he looked back to the bed and saw Nick still peacefully sleeping, his back to Greg.

As he'd crossed the room, the caller, a woman, asked, "May I speak with Nick, please?" She was formally polite, and since she was asking for Nick, Greg decided it was probably Nick's sister, Deb. He suddenly found himself nervous at the thought of speaking to Nick's family.

"I'm sorry, he's asleep right now." Greg kept his voice low, not wanting to disturb Nick.

"Is- is this Greg?" the woman swallowed nervously.

"Yes. Is this Nick's sister, Deb?" He found his head full of questions about Nick, wanting to know all about the man he was falling in love with.

"I'm Nick's sister, Wendy." A muffled sob came to Greg over the connection. A moment later, Wendy said, "Deb said Nicky called. I- I couldn't believe it! She gave me your number." There was a momentary pause, followed by a rushed and slightly panicked, "I hope that's okay!" It was obvious she was terrified that Greg would be angry at Nick.

"No, it's fine," Greg assured her.

Another muffled sob came over the line. "It's been so long, since... We'd all given up hope that Nicky was even still alive. Would- would it be possible for me to come see him?"

Greg didn't want to tell her no, but he also didn't want to put her in danger. "Right now isn't really a good time. There's some stuff going on... May I- may I ask what you know about why Nick was enslaved?"

"What?" Wendy's voice held confusion at the abrupt change in topic. "Why would you want to know about that?" There seemed to be a hint of anger in her voice.

"I work for the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I've asked my boss to look into the circumstances surrounding Nicky's enslavement."

When the silence on the line dragged on, Greg began to think they'd been disconnected. Then finally, Wendy spoke again. "Mom always maintained Dad's innocence. I didn't believe her. I couldn't see how the evidence they found against him could have been planted, as she always insisted it was. Was my mom right?"

"Let's put it this way, my boss struck a nerve with someone. Nick and I are in protective custody right now. It's looking like once all this blows over, Nick will be a free man." The thought scared the shit out of Greg. He'd fallen, and fallen hard, but if Nick decided to leave, Greg wouldn't stop him.

"Tell- tell Nick, we'll be waiting for him," Wendy managed to get out between more sobs, unmuffled this time.

Suddenly trying to avoid choking up himself, Greg said, "Call back in a couple of hours, and you can tell him yourself."

A few minutes passed before Wendy could speak again. "I'll do that. Thank you, Greg! Thank you, so much!"

Closing his phone, Greg sat and watched Nick sleep. As he watched, Nick rolled so he was facing Greg and the empty space on the bed where Greg had been. Nick's hand reached out in his sleep, and a slight frown made the lines in his forehead stand out prominently for a moment before he sank more deeply into sleep, his face relaxing once more.

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Greg felt moisture touch his cheeks anyway. "Please, Nicky, don't leave me," he whispered brokenly.

With a small sigh, he pulled himself together and went back to bed. Twining his fingers in Nick's, he pulled the other man's hand to his chest and cradled it there, closing his eyes.

A/N: If you are under the age of 17, skip this part of the chapter!

Sometime in the night, Greg's back had ended up against Nick's chest. This was how Nick woke up, Greg's body pressed flush against his own, all the way down to his feet. It was like he could feel each individual nerve ending where his body made contact with Greg's, and it was beyond arousing.

As Nick contemplated how best to approach waking the other man up, Greg rolled onto his back, and Nick found himself staring into caramel colored orbs. He'd slipped and fallen off the edge into the eternity those eyes promised.

Reaching his right hand up, he traced the line of Greg's jaw, the pad of his finger tingling ever so slightly from the prickly stubble growing there.

Starting at the corner of Greg's mouth, Nick began to kiss a trail down Greg's chin, to his neck. At the juncture of Greg's neck and shoulder, Nick nipped the skin, then laved over the reddening spot with the flat of his tongue. Nick felt Greg adjust the angle of his head, so Nick had better access. Emboldened by the blatant invitation, Nick sucked on the spot, and was rewarded with a small moan from Greg.

Continuing to trail kisses down Greg's body, Nick explored Greg's chest, teasing his nipples to hard peaks, tracing toned muscles. A light touch to his cheek made Nick pause and raise his head to look at Greg. Greg's eyes were glistening with moisture, and he looked to be on the verge of tears.

Propping himself up on his left elbow, Nick placed his right hand on Greg's cheek, fingers splayed. "What's wrong?"

Greg didn't speak, just shook his head, and tried to turn away. Nick applied gentle pressure with his hand, forcing Greg to keep facing him. "Please, talk to me!" The look in Greg's eyes was breaking his heart, and he'd do anything to take that pain away from Greg.

After what seemed an eternity, Greg finally spoke. Nick had to strain to hear, as Greg's voice was barely a whisper, "I don't want you to go away."

Smiling down at Greg, thumb brushing over Greg's sensitive lower lip, Nick said, "I'm not going anywhere."

"But, if you're freed, you'll want to go back with your family." A tear slipped free, and trailed down the side of Greg's head to the pillow beneath him.

Moving over top of Greg, Nick pushed a knee between Greg's legs, and knelt there. Caressing the mark he'd made on Greg's neck, Nick said, "I may not have been given a choice in coming here, but this is where I want to be! You said I was forever yours, and I am your soul." Leaning down and capturing Greg's lips in a tender kiss, Nick used his thumb to wipe away another tear. Pulling back a moment later, he spoke again, voice husky with desire and love, "That goes both ways, you are forever mine, and you are my soul! I'm not going anywhere!" Leaning down towards Greg again, Nick murmured, "Now, you promised we could make love when we woke up, and I plan to hold you to that."

Their lips met in another tender kiss. A kiss that Nick poured his heart and soul into. A kiss that spoke of forever.

Nick felt Greg's legs wrap around him, and suddenly their positions were reversed. Nick's back was pressed firmly into the mattress, and Greg was straddling his legs. When Greg leaned down and murmured, "I want you in me!" it sent a delicious shiver all the way down to Nick's toes.

When Greg pulled away again, Nick nearly whimpered at the loss of the other man's heat against him. But Greg was quickly back, the bottle of lube held tightly in his hand. Nick tried to take it from Greg, but Greg gave him an impish smile before lubing up his own fingers.

He felt his cock jump, becoming even harder, as Greg lowered himself onto his own fingers with a sigh. "Oh, Nicky! Touch me, please!"

Nick's hands found their way to Greg's thighs, where they trailed up, up Greg's sides, to his chest. The thumb of one hand brushed over first one of Greg's nipples, then the other, making Greg cry out softly in pleasure. Nick's other hand traveled down the arm of Greg's unoccupied hand. Their fingers momentarily twined together, before Greg took hold of Nick's hand and wrapped it around his leaking cock.

Another cry escaped Greg as Nick's thumb brushed over the sensitive head of his cock. "Oh, Nicky! This feels... Don't know how much longer... Need you in me!"

After rolling on a condom and retrieving the bottle of lube from where Greg had dropped it beside them on the bed, Nick squeezed a generous amount onto his aching length. Greg's intense gaze was on Nick's hand, as it rubbed the lube over the latex covered sensitized skin of his raging need. "Going to feel so good, Nicky! Love you, so much!"

Lifting Greg's body over his own, Nick guided the other man onto his throbbing erection. When Greg was fully impaled, he set his hands flat on Nick's chest, and just gazed into his lover's eyes for a few moments.

Nick was beginning to feel that he must surely explode into a million pieces from the pleasure of Greg's tight channel surrounding him, when Greg started to move. The motion started slowly at first, a gentle rocking, as Greg pulled himself up a little, then settled back down, and repeating the action, his eyes never leaving Nick's.

As Greg's motions sped up, Nick's hands found their way to Greg's rock hard, leaking length again. Dipping his index finger into Greg's slit, Nick wiped up the accumulated pre-cum. His finger found its way to his mouth, and he sucked it in, sighing in appreciation of Greg's taste.

"Fuck! Nicky! You know how to drive me wild!" With a low shout, Greg threw back his head, and his whole body tensed. The feeling of Greg's seed hitting his chest, coupled with the way Greg's passage massaged his length, sent Nick over the edge as well.

They had just finished cleaning up, and were laying together in bed, in a post orgasmic haze, when Greg's cell phone vibrated on the night stand, and there was a knock at the hotel room door.

Glancing at the call display, Greg recognized Wendy's number, so he tossed the phone to Nick with a smile before shouting, "Just a minute," toward the door.

Nick pulled the covers up over himself, and opened the phone, as Greg found his jeans and slipped into them before going to answer the door.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Hello?" Nick spoke into the phone.

"Nicky!" a shrill voice shouted happily back at him, making him pull the phone away from his ear to avoid going deaf.

It took a moment for the voice to fully penetrate his brain, and recognition to set in. "W- Wendy?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh, Nicky! Sweetie! It's so good to hear your voice again!" Wendy's voice had calmed, and Nick could now hold the phone back to his ear without risk to his hearing.

As he listened to his sister, he watched Greg pull on a pair of jeans, and had to stifle a sigh of disappointment, as Greg's perfect ass was enclosed in denim. He saw Greg disappear around the corner into the entry way, and heard the door open, followed by voices.

He lost the last half of what his sister said, when Greg came back around the corner. His face was pale, and Nick felt the color draining from his own in response.

"Nicky? Are you listening to me? Did we get cut off? Nicky!" he heard Wendy on the other end of the line, trying to get his attention back.

"Wendy, can I call you back in a little bit?" Nick said, already pulling the phone from his ear without waiting for her response. As the phone clicked shut, Nick said, "What's wrong?"

"Someone broke into the apartment, shortly after we left to come here this morning. Brass needs me to go see if anything's missing. One of the neighbors called 9-1-1 when they heard things being broken," Greg said, while pulling some clean clothes out of his bag. "Look, I shouldn't be gone too long. You stay here, call your sister back. She's really eager to talk to you. Order some room service. I'll be back before you know it."

Nick looked down at the phone in his hand. "Won't you need your phone?"

"Nah, I'll be with Brass, if I need to make a phone call, I'll use his. He won't mind." With that, Greg quickly dressed in his clean clothes. Grabbing his keys and wallet, he shoved them in his pockets before he went over to Nick.

"I'll be back soon," Greg murmured, before leaning down to capture Nick's lips in a kiss that quickly deepened and threatened to sweep them both away again.

Moaning and pulling reluctantly away, Nick said, "You better get going. Don't keep Captain Brass waiting. He doesn't seem to be the patient type."

Nick waited until Greg had left the hotel room before he climbed out of bed and got himself dressed. Once he was dressed, he made a quick call to room service, before picking up Greg's phone. He fiddled with it for a moment before flipping it open and pulling his sister's number back up.

It only rang once, before he got an earful of his sister screaming at him, "Nicholas Stokes, how dare you hang up on me!" Her tone quickly softened, though, as a thought struck her, "I didn't get you in trouble with Greg, did I?"

A smile settled on Nick's face. "No, I'm not in trouble with Greg."

"Oh, good! He told me about what's going on. All these years, I thought Dad was guilty! Mom- Mom tried so hard to get a new trail for Dad, to get them to tell her where you were." Nick could hear Wendy's voice cracking, as she struggled to keep from tearing up again.

"Wendy, where's Mom? Do you have her number? I'd really like to talk to her."

"Oh, Nicky! I'm so sorry! Sh- She died a few months after Dad, last year."

A strangled keening sound escaped Nick's throat, and his eyes brimmed over with tears. "Mama! N-no!" he wailed softly.

"She never stopped looking for you! They wouldn't tell her where you were, though. Kept saying you were to have no contact with anyone from your old life. I guess when Dad died, she realized she couldn't fix what had happened, no matter how hard she tried. She just gave up."

They both cried quietly for several minutes. Nick's, tears of grief over the loss of both of his parents; Wendy's a combination of guilt and renewed grief.

Finally, Nick spoke softly, "Don't blame yourself, sis. You weren't there to see what happened."

"Greg said you'll probably be freed, once this is blown over. If you are, we want you to come home," Wendy's voice shook with emotion.

"I already know what I want to do, sis. I'm going to stay here, with Greg." Nick closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, as he waited for the inevitable explosion from his sister.

"What! Why! He- he's your _owner_," she spat the word out, as if unable to keep it in her mouth because it was a foul thing.

"He's also the only one who ever cared about me! He hasn't forced me to do anything I don't want to do. He bought me more clothes than I think I've ever owned in my life. He even bought me a bedroom set, a laptop, and an iPod. He asked his boss to look into my enslavement. He let me get in touch with you guys! I love him, Wendy! I'm staying with him. Look, I'll come home to see you guys, and visit, but I'm staying here!"

"You love him?" there was incredulity in her voice. "No, you have that, what's it called, Stockholm Syndrom! You don't love him! Once you're freed, he won't want you there anymore! You'll see! Besides, how could you know what love is? How could you even know..." she trailed off, before, "You were taken too young to have any idea about your sexuality. You're not gay!"

"I was a Junior in highschool! That's old enough to have fooled around. I'd made out with enough girls to know that kissing a girl is like kissing one of my sisters!"

"But, that doesn't mean you're gay, just that you haven't found the right girl, yet," Wendy's protests only sounded lame now, as she began to deflate. Nick could tell she was dreading what he would say next.

"Bobby Sutton, from the football team, and I fooled around after a game one night. Sparks, sis, sparks!"

"Dad is rolling in his grave! Probably Mom, too!" Wendy tried to shock Nick out of what he was telling her.

"You know, with everything we went through, I really don't think Mom or Dad would care about something as trivial as my sexual preferences! Greg and I love each other. You can be happy for us, or you can just stay out of my life. Your choice."

"How can you be so certain he loves you?" it was said very quietly, and Nick knew she had finally fully deflated.

"He's a good man, Wendy! And I can see it in his eyes, whenever he looks at me. Not just when we're making love, but all of the time!"

"Eww... Nicky, I do not want to hear about that!" the teenage girl tone of her voice brought a smile to Nick's face.

There was a knock at the hotel room door, and Nick glanced at the clock to see that enough time had passed that it was probably his room service. "Wendy, I've got to go. I ordered room service earlier, and I think it's here. I'll give you a call in a few days, okay?"

"Okay, sure. I'm sorry, about how I reacted. I just want you to be happy, okay?"

"Okay. Love you, sis."

"Love you, too!"

Nick flipped the phone closed and shoved it into his jeans pocket, walking towards the door.

After a quick peek through the peep hole in the door, Nick twisted the doorknob and pulled the door open. He never saw what hit him, just saw darkness creeping up around the edges of his vision, and the floor racing up to meet him. Then everything went black.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Greg's apartment was in a shambles. Furniture overturned, broken, torn. Pictures and other nicknacks thrown to the floor and broken into pieces. In Greg's room, his clothes had been torn and strewn to the floor, his mattress and bedding shredded. Nick's room seemed to take the brunt of the damage, though. Everything was destroyed. All of Nick's brand new clothing were unrecognizable bits of cloth and denim, his furniture had been broken into the smallest pieces possible.

Giving Sara a pained look, Greg said, "I just don't know. It's such a mess! I don't think anything's missing, but I just don't know."

"Okay, it's okay, Greg," Sara replied, giving him her patented gap toothed grin. They were back in the livingroom. Brass was standing in the doorway, wanting to avoid contaminating the scene any more than it already was. Sara had lead Greg carefully through the carnage, asking him to see if he could see anything obviously missing. Warrick had just finished photographing the livingroom, and was now dusting for prints.

"Grissom told us a little about what's going on. Look, if you need any help cleaning this all up, after, all you have to do is call." Sara rested one hand on Greg's arm, drawing a wane smile out of him.

"Thanks, Sara. I'll keep that in mind." Trudging back towards Brass, Greg nearly jumped out of his skin, when he heard the responding officer's radio squelch from outside the apartment door.

"Ten fifty-three, officer down. Repeat, I have a ten fifty-three, officer down. At the Vegas Oasis hotel!" the tinny voice carried to Greg.

Greg's eyes flashed to Brass's, as the homicide detective's head snapped around towards him.

"Oh, God! Nicky!" Greg's face paled, and he suddenly felt faint. Shaking it off, he sprinted for the door, following Brass's retreating form, as the older man ran for his unmarked detective car.

He found himself jumping onto and sliding across the hood in a Bo Duke maneuver to get to the passenger side more quickly than he could have done running around the car. Then he was inside, and Brass was reversing the car into the street with a screech of tires on asphalt.

Lights blaring, and siren screaming, Brass floored the accelerator. Greg didn't stop to wonder at Brass's sudden attitude change regarding Nick, but he was grateful the older man was taking him back to the hotel at such great speeds.

Grissom was already at the hotel, when they got there. He caught Greg, as the younger man tried to bolt from the car and into the hotel.

"Let me go! Where's Nicky? I have to see him!" Greg struggled in Grissom's strong grip, trying to twist away and run into the hotel. He watched in horror as the coroner came out with a body bag on a gurney.

"Greg, Nick's gone!" Grissom managed to grit out, while holding Greg back with all his might. He didn't expect what happened next.

Greg went limp, sliding down to the asphalt of the parking lot. "What? No! He can't be! No!"

Grissom's gaze traveled to what Greg was watching, and realization of the exact wording he'd used seemed to dawn on him. "No, Greg, I didn't mean it that way. He's not here. They took him!"

A relieved sob escaped Greg, as his heart began to beat again. "Have you been in the room? Is my cell phone there? Nicky had my cell phone. If it's not in the room, maybe he put it in his pocket. You can track that, right?" he knew he was babbling, but he couldn't seem to make himself stop, and Grissom's nodding head just kept him going.

"Holly's in there processing, right now. Let's go see if she found your phone."

Jumping to his feet, Greg didn't give Grissom a chance to grab him again, he bolted past his supervisor, running to the hotel door. The uni at the door tried to stop him, but Greg just pushed past him as he had Grissom.

The only thing that kept the uni from grabbing Greg was a look from Grissom.

Running through the lobby towards the elevators, Greg punched the button impatiently, grumbling under his breath at the length of time it was taking an elevator to get to the lobby. Grissom's hand on his arm made him jump, but he didn't see any point in pulling away. Instead, he looked from Grissom's hand on his arm, to Grissom's face. Concern filled Grissom's normally impassive gaze.

"You're going to hyperventilate, if you don't slow your breathing. You'll be no good to him, if you pass out. I know you're worried about him, I am too." He finally removed his hand from Greg's arm.

Greg gave Grissom a sheepish look. "I know, it's just... You heard about the break-in at my apartment, right? It was them, whoever 'they' are. I mean, it had to be, right?" There he went, babbling on, again.

"Sara and Warrick are dusting for prints, searching for any other evidence that will lead us to who is doing this. I finally tracked down the detective that interrogated Nick's father. He was shot and killed in a gang turf war in Austin ten years ago. It turns out, there are four Judge Morris's on the bench in Texas. I have Archie digging into their pasts, and trying to find out as much as he can about all of them right now."

"Can this damned elevator go any slower!" Greg was nearly bouncing up and down in his impatience to be doing something. "He could be dead already!" this was nearly wailed, and Greg found Grissom's hand on his arm again.

"They won't kill him, at least not yet. He's not important to them. Even though he knows the truth of what happened that night, as a slave, who would believe him? It's us they want, Greg. I'm pretty sure that I'll soon be getting another phone call."

The elevator finally dinged to signal it had arrived, and Greg nearly didn't wait for the doors to open adequately.

He had punched the button and was now holding down the close door button, almost not waiting for Grissom to get inside the elevator car.

"Greg!" Grissom snapped at him, and Greg realized his supervisor had been trying to get his attention for a couple of minutes, now, as the elevator made its slow way up.

"Yeah?" he asked, absentmindedly.

"When we get there, you can't go charging into the room. You could compromise evidence. I'll have Holly look around."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Greg replied, bouncing on the balls of his feet again.

Remembering Grissom's admonishment to him, Greg tried to walk sedately out of the elevator, after he let the doors get a little more than half way open.

A uni was posted outside the elevator, to turn away the curious. He held up a hand to stop Greg, but lowered it as soon as Grissom showed him his crime lab I.D. Farther down the hall, Detective Vartann was interviewing potential witnesses. Beyond that, Officer Jenkins was sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest. It looked like he'd been hyperventilating, as he had his head resting on his knees, and he was desperately working on slow, steady breaths.

When Officer Jenkins saw Greg, he buried his face in his knees again, but not before Greg saw the look of blame on his face. He blamed Greg for the death of his partner, and in retrospect, Greg figured it probably was his fault. If he'd just left well enough alone, he and Nick would be safe at home, and Officer Jenkins's partner wouldn't be dead.

Against the wall opposite the hotel room door, a hotel room service cart had been abandoned. An evidence marker was sitting on it, making Greg guess that whomever had taken Nick had posed as a hotel employee. Another yellow plastic evidence marker sat on the floor, next to a drying pool of blood to the side of the door. There was blood spatter and a hole farther up the same wall.

Greg had to swallow past a sudden lump in his throat. He dealt with blood and other bodily fluids everyday in his job, but not like this. And to top things off, he hadn't even taken the time to learn the officer's name.

Grissom gestured for Greg to stay back, then gingerly stepped around the blood pool to the open door of the hotel room. He called inside, "Holly?"

"Yeah, Griss?" came a nearly instantaneous answer.

"Have you found a cell phone in there?"

"No, but I haven't had a chance to look the whole room over, yet."

"Do that now, please! It's important. Nick may have Greg's cell phone with him."

Greg stood tensely waiting. Their ability to find Nick hedged heavily on him having Greg's cell phone with him. If it turned out the phone was sitting on the floor of the hotel room, or had been kicked under the bed, then all bets were off. The ball would be in the court of the person or persons who had taken him.

"Nope, don't see it, boss."

"Thanks, Holly!" Grissom called back. As he walked back to Greg, he was pulling his own cell from its holster on his belt. "Archie, this is Grissom, drop everything and run a search for Greg's cell phone. Give me a location!"


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Consciousness returned with a blaze of pain to the back of Nick's head. Rolling over onto his side with a small groan, Nick tried to move his right hand to the back of his head, only to find it coming up short of its destination. Trying with his left, he found it unrestrained, and was able to determine that other than a good sized goose egg on his lower skull, there seemed to be no other damage.

Cracking his eyes open the barest fraction, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the bright light the seemed to be right above him. It stabbed into his skull, making him want to squeeze his eyes closed again, but he didn't. Instead, he braved opening his eyes more, finally taking in his surroundings.

He was in a hotel room. Of that he was sure. He was also sure it was not the hotel room he'd been sharing with Greg. This one seemed seedier. All of the surfaces he could see, while clean, were extremely worn. The carpet appeared to be nearing thread bare in some places. He had been put on the bed, but it didn't seem to have anything to do with his captors wanting him to be comfortable. It seemed to have the only surface suitable for hand cuffing him, the headboard being an old wrought iron thing with vertical bars every three to four inches. One cuff was secured around his right wrist, and the other was secured around one of the iron bars.

A TV sitting on a dresser across from the foot of the bed was turned on, the volume loud enough to keep any neighbors from hearing him if he made noise. He was pretty sure that if he could make enough noise to be heard, he'd be dismissed as being part of the television show that was currently playing, anyway.

At the moment, there was no sign of his captors. But he knew that could change at any time. Just as the sounds of the TV covered noises he made, it also covered any sounds that might drift in from outside of the room.

Deciding it was worth the risk, Nick pulled Greg's cell phone from his pocket. He flipped it open, and accessed the contacts list, scrolling down until he found the one labeled "Grissom." Pushing send, he put the phone to his ear, and glued his eyes to the window beside the door, hoping for some warning of his captors' return.

Nick let out a small sigh of relief when he heard Grissom's voice.

"Nick! Are you all right? Where are you?"

In the background, Nick could hear Greg's frantic voice, "It's Nick? Is he okay?"

"Mr. Grissom, I don't know where I am. A rundown hotel, but I don't know where. They handcuffed me to the bed, I don't know when they'll be back, or how many of them there are." A note of fear crept into Nick's voice. "Please, don't let them take me away from Greg!"

"Nick, listen to me! We're tracking the GPS in Greg's phone. It's taking time, though. You have to make sure the phone stays on. Find a place to hide it. We'll be there, as soon as we can!" Grissom's voice was calm, and it helped Nick calm himself somewhat.

"Mr. Grissom, please tell Greg I love him. I better go." Without stopping to think about what he was doing, he snapped the phone closed, then looked desperately around for a place to hide it.

Glancing down at his shoes, he thought about how Wendy would sometimes put a little bit of money and her I.D. into her stocking, so she wouldn't have to carry her purse when she went out with her friends. The phone wasn't too big, so he thought it might fit into the top of his sock, even if it wouldn't fit down into his shoe. He figured that way, in the event his captors took him from the hotel room, he'd still have the phone. His idea worked, so now he decided it was time to try and get free.

As he worked himself around on the bed so that he could use his feet to kick at the bar holding his hand hostage, Nick realized that the pain in his head had faded to a dull throb. He was grateful for that one small blessing. Now, if he could just get free.

Getting the leverage he needed was proving difficult, since he was having to sit so close to the headboard. Between the length of his arm, and the length of the handcuff, he just couldn't put enough space between himself and the headboard to get any powerful kicks in against the wrought iron bar.

He'd been at it for several minutes, when the hotel room door opened behind him. His heart fell when he heard, "I _told_ you to secure him better than that! We're lucky he didn't get away, you idiot!"

"Oh, go fuck yourself! He's still here, that headboard isn't going to give any time soon!" came a snarled reply.

Then Nick felt a hand grip the back of his neck. He was spun roughly around, and Nick could feel the handcuff wrench at his right wrist. Nick prepared himself as best he could for the inevitable blow, but it didn't come.

Both men were about Nick's size, and in their middle to late thirties. The one gripping Nick's neck had a sloping forehead, over a crooked nose, and icy blue eyes. His hands were huge, and Nick imagined he could actually feel the bones in his neck grinding together from the man's iron grip. The man's bleach blonde hair was gelled up in spikes, but Nick found nothing in the least cute about it, the way he did Greg's crazy hair styles.

The other man was leaner, his hands had long, slender fingers. His reddish hair was cut nearly as short as Nick's, and his nose ended in a nearly sharp point, giving it the appearance of a beak, instead of a nose. Green eyes blazed out of his face at Nick.

"Hold him down, the boss wants this new RFID in him, before the other two show up!" the green eyed man spoke to the blue eyed man.

Nick squirmed, trying to pull away, but blue eyes pushed him down flat on the bed, and straddled his chest, effectively pinning him. A whimper of fear escaped Nick, and the blue eyed man grinned maliciously at him.

His left wrist was seized in an iron grip, and Nick twisted his head to see what green eyes was doing to him.

Green eyes first poured alcohol across Nick's wrist, then picked up a scalpel from a small plastic case on the bed. When the scalpel sliced into the skin of Nick's wrist, he screamed, eyes squeezing shut, tears flowing down the sides of his head. The cold of the metal was finally removed, only to be replaced with another excruciating sensation. Nick screamed again, as something dug around inside the flesh of his wrist.

When this pain subsided, Nick felt a new pain begin, as something was pressed back into his wrist. He'd nearly decided there was no way the pain could get any worse, when he felt something biting into his wrist. At the same time, he heard a small snicking sound. He tried to scream again, but his throat was raw, and no sound would come out. The snicking sound and the biting pain repeated twice more, then Nick was released. He felt the weight of blue eyes shift, as the man climbed off of him.

Rolling to his side, Nick cradled his injured wrist to his chest. After a few minutes of just trying to survive the pain, it finally began to ease into a mere throb, and he ventured to open his eyes.

There was a quarter inch incision on the inside of his left wrist. The scalpel must have missed the major veins, because he wasn't bleeding to death, and there was surprisingly little blood oozing out between the surgical staples the incision had been closed with. The digging sensation must have been green eyes locating Nick's radio frequency identification chip. They had removed the only proof that he belonged to Greg, and replaced it with a different chip. A chill ran down his body at the implications of this.

For the first time in a very long time, he found himself praying. Praying that Mr. Grissom and Greg would find him before his captors could take him away forever.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Greg wanted to scream, "Can't this thing go any faster!" but he knew Grissom already had his foot on the floor, pushing the department Tahoe to it's limits. He'd never suspected the graveyard shift supervisor could drive like this, taking corners at breakneck speeds, swerving in and out of traffic. Nearly the moment Nicky had hung up, Archie had phoned. He had a location, across town. A thirty minute drive at the legal speed limit. The legal speed limit be damned! Grissom had punched the lights and siren the instant he'd brought the engine growling to life.

They were nearly there, now. Mere blocks to go, and he'd have Nicky safely back in his arms. Brass was in his Taurus, just ahead of them. Two unis were following behind them. They'd be in time! They had to be! Nick would be okay!

Nearly there, and Grissom cut the siren. Greg absentmindedly noted that the patrol cars and the Taurus have done the same. They didn't want to alert Nick's abductors that the police were on the way. Nick's still at that seedy hotel. He's just fine! He has to be! Greg realized he was hyperventilating again, tried to slow his breathing. Long, even breaths. Can't lose it now! Only if he loses Nicky, _then_ he can lose him! But he hasn't lost him yet. They're pulling up in front of the hotel room door.

Grissom grabs his arm, holds him back, when Greg tries to get out of the Tahoe. One of the unis is pounding on the hotel room door, demanding it be opened. Then the uni's foot is breaking the door down, and all four of them rush inside.

Greg yanks his arm free of Grissom's hold, opens the door and jumps out of the S.U.V., rushing towards the hotel room door, screaming Nick's name.

The unis have two men on their knees, on the floor, cuffing them, reading them their rights, but Greg only has eyes for Nick, curled up in a ball, on the bed. Nick's right hand is still cuffed to the headboard, and Greg snaps at one of the unis, "Give me your handcuff key!"

Startled by the look of wildness in Greg's eyes, the uniformed officer hands him the key without comment, and Greg goes to Nick. It takes him a couple of tries to get the key into the keyhole, his hands are shaking. He wonders briefly when that happened, but as the handcuff falls away from Nick's wrist, he suddenly finds his arms full.

They're both sobbing, and Nick's trying to say something, but Greg can't understand it, and he realizes that Nick's only put his right arm around him, his left is cradled to his chest protectively.

Then Grissom's there, tugging on Greg's arm, trying to get them both to move out of the room, out to the Tahoe, so he can start processing the room.

Finally getting himself under control, Greg gently pulls Nick's chin up, so he can look Nick in the face, reassure himself that Nick is fine. "Come on, let's get out of this place."

Nick nods, but won't release him, so Greg manages to maneuver them both out of the room, to the back of the Tahoe, where Grissom has opened the rear door.

"Nicky, are you okay?" Greg finally asks, still needing reassurance that Nick was truly okay, unhurt.

Pulling his hand away from his chest, Nick holds it out for the other two men to see. "They were going to take me away from you," Nick whimpers, burying his face in the crook of Greg's neck, as Grissom and Greg inspect the stapled incision.

Grissom calmly asked, "They replaced the RFID in your arm, didn't they?"

But Nick would only repeat, "They were going to take me away from Greg!" and the sobs were back, huge wracking sobs. Greg had never seen an adult man cry this hard, and it broke his heart.

He did the only thing he could, kissing the side of Nick's head, and repeating over and over again, "It's okay, Nicky! It's okay! I've got you, I'm here!"

When Nick had calmed again, Greg looked at Grissom and snarled, "I want that _thing_ out of him!"

Grissom didn't argue, just nodded, and quietly said, "The scene will hold. Come on."

Greg only managed to get Nick to release his near death grip on him long enough to get them both in the backseat of the Tahoe, where Nick wrapped his right arm around Greg again. Greg welcomed Nick's heat. He hadn't even realized how cold he'd felt since the news of Nick's abduction had reached him, until now, now that he had Nick's warm body against him again. He wasn't sure he'd ever be willing to let him go again. And it seemed that Nick was having the same thought.

It took a few minutes of watching out the window for Greg to realize they weren't heading for the hospital.

"Griss, where are we going?" he asked in confusion.

"If we take him to the hospital, they'll scan his RFID. They'll think you're trying to steal him, and will contact whomever is listed on the RFID they put in him. Doc Robbins, on the other hand, already knows you had him at the lab during your shift last night. He won't question us, he'll just take that chip out. I'll have Archie process it. Maybe it'll give us a clue as to which Judge Morris we should be looking at."

Finally arriving at the crime lab, they made their way down to the morgue, where Doc Robbins had just finished up with an autopsy. The body had been removed, and Dave Phillips, the assistant coroner, was pushing it on a rolling table into one of the walk-in coolers.

"Grissom," Doc Robbins greeted the supervisor with a smile and a nod.

"Doc," was Grissom's easy reply.

Doc Robbins eyed Greg and Nick with a knowing look. "What's wrong?"

"They replaced Nick's RFID. We need you to take it out. It's evidence," Grissom told the medical examiner.

Without so much as a raised eyebrow, Doc Robbins motioned at a clean autopsy table behind him. "Have him sit up here, so I can take a look."

Greg guessed the M.E.'s lack of surprise meant that everyone in the lab knew that Nick had been abducted, if not all of the details.

When Greg tried to maneuver Nick to the stainless steel table, Nick balked, and tried to pull away.

"Nicky?" Greg asked in confusion. Surely Nick would want that RFID out of him. Did he not realize what they were offering him? This was his freedom! Then realization dawned on him, as he saw the look of terror in Nick's eyes. "They didn't use any kind of numbing agent! Shit!" He looked over at Doc Robbins and Grissom beseechingly. "Please, tell me you have something to numb the pain!"

"I keep a well stocked first aid kit, which includes a topical anesthetic," Doc Robbins replied, heading towards the wall mounted kit by the sink.

Nick spoke so softly, Greg had to strain to catch what he said, as it was nearly lost in the echo of the chamber, "I screamed, it hurt so bad, but they wouldn't stop."

Pulling Nick back into his embrace, Greg said, "Oh, baby! I'm so sorry! I didn't think... I'm so sorry!"

Doc Robbins was back, and spoke softly to Greg, "It would be better if he was on the table, for the light, but I can do this down here, I just need his hand."

Nick burrowed further into Greg again, but Greg held him away, so he could force Nick to look him in the eye. "Do you trust me, Nick?"

Meeting Greg's gaze for the briefest of moments, Nick gave the slightest nod of his head as his only answer.

"Then please, let Doc Robbins get that chip out of you! He won't hurt you, I promise!"

When Nick pulled his arm away from his body, offering it out to Doc Robbins, Greg breathed a sigh of relief and allowed Nick to sag back into him. Nick's body tensed, at the slight pinch of the needle injecting some lidocaine into the area surrounding the incision in Nick's wrist. As the lidocaine did its job, taking away the pain from Nick's wrist, Greg felt Nick's body relax.

Greg watched as Doc Robbins pulled the three staples free, then quickly retrieved the RFID, which he deposited into the small evidence envelope Grissom held out to him. Doc Robbins then closed the incision, using liquid stitches, instead of the more painful and scarring staples. Once the liquid stitches had dried sufficiently, Doc Robbins wrapped a bandage around Nick's wrist, and gave him a friendly pat on the back.

Without taking his head away from Greg's shoulder, Nick twisted so he could give Doc Robbins a thankful smile. "Thank you, sir," he said quietly.

With a clap on Nick's back, Grissom said, "You're a free man, now, Nicky! You don't have to say sir, anymore!"

Finally pulling away from Greg, Nick let a smile light up his face for the first time since he'd been rescued. "I guess you're right... Griss," he said shyly.

At that moment, Grissom's cell phone rang, making them all jump in surprise as the quiet in the morgue was broken. Gazing at the evidence envelope in his hand, Grissom flipped open his phone with his usual, "Grissom." He listened intently to the person on the other end of the line, said, "Yeah," and "Uh huh," a few times, then said, "I'll be right there."

Closing his phone again, Grissom looked from Nick to Greg, "That was Brass. He's got our two boys over at the station. I'm going to go sit in on the interrogations. I know you're both exhausted, but I think it's probably best if you stay here. No one's going to try anything with a building full of law enforcement personnel. Go stretch out on the couches in the break room. This may all be over soon, if we can get one of those men to I.D. Judge Morris."

Grissom turned and strode from the morgue, and Greg turned to follow, when Doc Robbins spoke again.

"I have a fold out couch in my office that I'm sure is much more comfortable than the couches in the break room, much more private too. You won't be bothered by people walking in and out constantly. It's yours, if you'd like to use it."

Greg gave him a tired, grateful smile. "We wouldn't be putting you out, would we? I wouldn't want to keep you from your paperwork."

"Nah, it's no bother. I really don't use my office much, anyway. I've got a desk set up against the wall over there that serves my needs." Doc Robbins picked up his crutch, and lead the way into his office, where he pulled out a blanket, and even a couple of pillows, from a cabinet, as Greg pulled the cushions from the couch and unfolded the bed frame from inside the couch.

After asking if the two men needed anything else, Doc Robbins walked out of the office, closing the door behind him.

Finally alone, Greg pulled Nick to him in a bone crushing hug, then pulled him back to look into his eyes. They both spoke at the same time, "I thought I'd lost you," colliding with, "I thought I'd never see you again," then lips were colliding. The kiss didn't last long, though, as both men were now fighting to stifle yawns. The after affects of an adrenaline high, coupled with mild shock, had both men too exhausted for anything but sleep.

Greg managed to kick off his shoes, and practically fell onto the bed, Nick crawling into his arms as soon as he'd taken off his own shoes. They were both asleep in moments.

A/N: Just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who's read, reviewed, added this story to favorites, or added it to story alerts. To date, this has been my most popular story! Thanks a bunch!


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

A hand shaking Greg's shoulder awoke him some time later. He opened his eyes, and found Grissom leaning carefully over Nick, who was still out cold curled up against Greg's side. It took him a moment to remember that they were in Doc Robbins's office.

"How'd you know where to find us?" he asked softly.

"Doc Robbins called, as soon as he'd seen you settled in. He didn't want me to worry, since you didn't go to the break room," Grissom replied, equally as softly.

"Oh," Greg said, not sure anything else needed to be said.

Grissom's face lit up with a wide smile, and he quietly said, "We've got a name! Judge Lionel Morris. Brass is coordinating with the Austin field office of the F.B.I. right now. They've had suspicions about him for years, just couldn't prove anything."

Nick stirred against Greg's side, a small whimper escaping his lips. Rubbing his hand over Nick's back, Greg made a shushing noise, and whispered, "Go back to sleep, Nicky," in the other man's ear, before quietly asking Grissom, "So, what now?"

"Danny Mackenzie is willing to wear a wire and try to get Judge Morris to talk." The look in Grissom's eyes had a decidedly predatory gleam, Greg decided. "He said the plan was to kill the two of us, then deliver Nick to Morris three days from now."

"You aren't seriously considering letting that madman take Nicky to this Judge Morris!" Greg's voice crept upwards in volume, and Nick stirred against him again.

"Judge Morris will know something's wrong, if we don't let Mackenzie take Nick. Greg, he's got to do this! It's the only way to take Morris down, and clear Nick's father, finally free Nick completely!"

Greg's arm went around Nick protectively.

Suddenly wide awake, Nick looked first into Greg's face, then twisted his head towards the presence he sensed behind him, taking in the fierce look on Grissom's face.

"Greg?" Nick's voice was full of dread and fear. He sat up, pulling his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Greg sat up, too, draping an arm around Nick's shoulders comfortingly.

With a sigh of resignation, Greg said, "I guess you're right, Grissom. I'm going with him, though." The look on Greg's face told Grissom that this was nonnegotiable.

"Okay. We'll figure out a way to get you to Texas," Grissom gave in much more easily than Greg had imagined he would. With both of them supposedly dead, Greg had thought Grissom would try to argue that the whole operation could be blown if Greg went to Texas with Nick. He decided that Grissom must have realized that Greg wouldn't allow Nick to go without him.

"What's going on?" Nick asked quietly, looking between the other two men.

"Nicky, you want to have your dad's name cleared, and be freed, right?" Greg asked, placing his free hand on Nick's cheek to keep the other man's gaze focused on him.

"Yes," was the low, but instant response.

"We need your help. Mackenzie is supposed to deliver you to Judge Morris in three days. Will you let him take you to Judge Morris?"

A wild look flitted across Nick's face, but Greg watched him take control of himself. Dark brown eyes met caramel colored eyes, and Nick gave a sharp nod of his head. "You'll be there with me," it was a statement, as Nick had heard the end of Greg and Grissom's conversation.

"I won't be able to be with you the whole way, but I'll stay with you for as long as I can. I won't leave you with those two men any longer than I have to!"

Grissom held up the evidence envelope he'd had Doc Robbins drop the RFID into earlier. Nick paled and shrank back against Greg, who gave Grissom a questioning look, as his arm tightened around Nick's shoulders.

"We need to secure this under the gauze on your wrist, Nick. Judge Morris may scan for it, and he'll know something's up, if he doesn't find it. Just under the gauze, not back in your wrist," Grissom did his best to reassure Nick, not wanting the younger man to back out and cause the plan to fall apart.

Gesturing to the envelope, Greg said, "Give it to me. I'll take care of it."

Handing Greg the offensive object, Grissom said, "I've got to go finish up the arrangements. We have to be at McCarran in two hours. The F.B.I. is sending a plane for us."

"Okay, boss. Just call my cell, when we're ready to go," Greg replied.

After the door clicked closed behind Grissom, Greg turned to Nick. "Are you sure you're going to be okay doing this?"

"I'm scared out of my mind," Nick admitted quietly. "I want this over, though, so I'll do it." He scooted closer into Greg's arms, leaning his head on Greg's shoulder. "Make love to me, please!" the tone of his voice gave Greg the impression that Nick felt like this would be the last time.

Twisting his head to capture Nick's lips in a searing kiss, Greg teased the other man's mouth open, and their tongues met in a gentle caress. Putting one hand on the side of Nick's head, he deepened the kiss until they both pulled back a moment later, panting for breath.

"This isn't going to be the last time I make love to you, Nicky! It's just the first of too many times to count. I'll make love to you every day, if you'll let me!" Greg breathed out, as he reached over and locked the door before pushing Nick down on the bed, and kissed him again.

Remembering the small envelope he still held in his other hand, Greg pulled back, and took Nick's gauze wrapped wrist. Unwinding the gauze, he first placed a gentle kiss over the closed incision, before he wrapped the gauze once around Nick's wrist. Then he placed the rice sized RFID in the gauze and securely wrapped the rest of the gauze around Nick's wrist.

Greg was leaning in to capture Nick's lips in another kiss, when it dawned on him that their supplies had been on the night stand in the hotel room. A hangdog look settled on his face.

The slightly comical look on Greg's face brought forth a small smile and chuckle from Nick. "What?"

Resting his forehead against Nick's with a disappointed sigh, Greg replied, "No supplies. And I'm not about to call Grissom up and ask him to go out and get us any. That would just be embarrassing! I'm sorry, Nicky. I'll make it up to you, I promise!"

"But, couldn't we just..." Nick didn't get to finish his sentence, as Greg's phone chose that moment to ring.

Greg pulled the phone from his pocket, answering with, "Sanders," as he flipped it open.

"I know it hasn't been two hours yet, but we're ready. Meet us by the elevators in the parking garage," Grissom began without preamble.

Already pulling Nick up from the bed, Greg said, "We're on our way, Grissom."

As they walked through the morgue, Greg tossed a quick, "Thanks, Doc," towards Doc Robbins, who was in the middle of another autopsy. Greg didn't pause to hear his response, choosing instead to avoid seeing the inside of a dead body.

When the elevator doors opened into the parking garage, Greg and Nick found Grissom, Brass, and a handcuffed McKenzie waiting for them. Greg automatically put himself between McKenzie and Nick, shielding his lover from the man who had hurt him. McKenzie didn't look at either of them, keeping his eyes cast down at the floor. Greg wondered if he was already preparing himself for the life of a slave.

Greg sat between Nick and McKenzie in the back of Brass's Taurus, while Brass drove and Grissom rode shotgun. Thus, the drive to McCarran International Airport was made without incident. Brass drove the Taurus to a government owned hanger, where an F.B.I. Leer jet awaited them, fully fueled and ready to taxi out to the runway.

To Greg's untrained eye, other than the tail number, there were no identifying marks on the plane – certainly nothing that screamed, "F.B.I." But then, Greg supposed that was probably the whole point. F.B.I. agents could be flown into an area without everyone knowing that's what they were. For all intents and purposes, they could be businessmen with access to the company jet, flying into town for a meeting.

Despite the circumstances, Nick looked excited, and perhaps a bit nervous, leading Greg to guess the other man had never flown before.

Leaning in towards Nick, Greg said, "Is this your first time flying?"

"My parents flew the whole family down to Florida one year, to go to Disney World, but I was really little at the time. I don't really remember it." A frown settled over Nick's face, drawing out the lines in his forehead and around his eyes. "I wish I could remember it. Memories are all I have left of my parents."

Letting out a sad sigh, Greg pulled Nick up the short ladder into the plane. The interior of the plane wasn't really what Greg had expected – though to tell the truth, he hadn't really known what to expect. He'd never been in a Leer jet before, only seen the interiors of them on TV. In those, the interiors had been similar to that of a limo – long seats stretched along the exterior walls of the plane, small tables set at intervals all down the way, perhaps a conversation area, where there might be four arm chairs set so they were facing each other around a small dining table.

The interior of this Leer jet was more along the lines of a commercial jet in its set up. Greg supposed that followed more to function – after all, the plane was meant to transport large amounts of F.B.I. agents from place to place, as the need for them required. There was an aisle down the middle of the plane, with pairs of seats on each side – a scaled down version of a commercial jet. Overhead compartments offered storage for any carry-on luggage.

Brass had pushed McKenzie into a window seat, and was sitting in the seat next to him. Grissom had taken up residence in the row across from Brass and McKenzie. He had on a pair of reading glasses, and was perusing the latest edition of a forensics journal.

Still holding Nick's hand, Greg pulled him towards the front of the plane, where they would have some privacy. "You want the window seat, Nicky?"

"Sure," Nick responded, the excited look back on his face, though the tension of a few minutes ago didn't seem to have fully drained from his features.

After they'd both settled in, Greg leaned into Nick, touching their foreheads together. "When this is all over with, we'll get hold of your brother and sisters. I'm sure they'll be happy to talk about your memories of your parents, help you remember more about them. They probably even have pictures."

Touching Greg's cheek with his fingertips, Nick smiled, "How is it that you seem to know exactly what I need?"

"Because you're my soul," was Greg's only response.

The co-pilot came out of the cockpit and walked back to secure the door. Within minutes, they were in the air. Greg could feel the end of their ordeal nearing, and could only pray that it ended well.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Once the plane had landed in Austin, Texas, they were met by the agent Grissom had contacted, Special Agent Laura Hartley.

"Dr. Grissom, I'm Agent Hartley, we spoke on the phone," she said, sticking out her hand to him, as soon as he'd climbed down from the plane.

Nick watched from behind Greg, as Grissom and Hartley shook hands. She was a trim woman, about five foot three or four, dressed in a woman's pant suit. Her long blond hair was braided, falling down her back to just above her waist. Eyes the color of an overcast day didn't seem to miss a thing.

Once both Greg and Nick were on the ground, Brass pushing McKenzie down the ladder behind them, Grissom introduced them, "This is Nick Stokes and his partner, Greg Sanders."

"So this is Judge Stokes's son," Agent Hartley said, eyeing Nick. "Why doesn't he have a collar, or other identification on him?"

"Because he's not property anymore!" Greg bristled beside Nick, moving to place himself between the F.B.I. agent and his lover.

"For the remainder of this investigation, he is!" she snapped back at Greg, then shot over her shoulder, "Someone, find me a collar!"

"He's mine, and I say no collar!" Greg snapped back. Nick thought maybe he should tell Greg it was okay, he could wear a collar for a few days, but the look on Greg's face kept the words from forming on his lips.

Grissom stepped between the two before their shouting match could escalate further. "Nick will wear the collar when McKenzie takes him to Judge Morris, but that is all." When it looked like Greg was going to protest, Grissom snapped, "Isn't that right, Greg!"

The fire didn't leave Greg's eyes, but he relented, "Fine!"

Speaking to Grissom, Hartley said, "Let's go! I need to get all of you to headquarters, before the wrong person sees you."

Nick walked quietly behind Greg, watching Greg's tense shoulders, ramrod straight back, and knowing that fierce look was still in Greg's eyes. He was immensely glad Greg hadn't once been mad at him in the short time they'd known each other.

Over the next two days, the tension between Agent Hartley and Greg just seemed to build, and Nick was afraid Greg would call the whole thing off.

No matter how many times Greg tried to tell the obstinate woman that Nick was no longer a slave, she continued to treat him like one. Nick decided it was her way of distancing herself, in case something went wrong. He even tried to tell Greg this at one point, but Greg just put a finger over Nick's lips and said he didn't want to hear anything about "the heartless bitch" from him.

The morning Nick was to be "delivered" to Judge Morris, Agent Hartley came to collect Nick from the hotel room he and Greg were sharing.

Greg was glaring at the agent, and Nick was certain that if looks could kill, Greg would end up going to prison for murder.

Agent Hartley held the collar in her hand, unlocked, and open, ready to snap closed around Nick's neck.

Meeting the agent's eyes, Nick took the collar from her hand and snapped it around his own neck, then turned to Greg. He pulled Greg into a hug, kissing Greg's neck, then up his jaw line to his mouth. "Don't let her get to you, Greg. I'll be okay!" Pulling back enough to look Greg in the face, Nick trailed his knuckles down Greg's cheek.

Sighing in resignation, Greg said, "Forever mine! My soul!" Nick echoed him, giving him one last kiss before following Agent Hartley from the room.

Outside, Nick was shoved almost roughly into the backseat of the car that had been obtained for McKenzie to use to make his delivery. Nick assumed McKenzie had already been wired up, as he was sitting in the driver's seat, waiting.

Once Nick was in the car, McKenzie drove away. Nick had to fight the urge to look out the back window, make sure the F.B.I.'s white van was following, as Greg had assured him it would be. This was the F.B.I.'s dog and pony show, but Nick would have felt much better if Brass had been allowed to go in the van with them.

Brass may have been indifferent to him, at this point, but at least he would help make sure Nick was safe, since Brass knew how much Greg cared for him. But he hadn't even seen Brass or Grissom over the last two days. They'd all been pretty much confined to their rooms, lest their plan be blown by an acquaintance of Judge Morris's being in the wrong place at the right time.

The only thing Nick knew about where they were meeting Judge Morris was that it was a park. The Judge was too smart to have Nick delivered to him in his chambers, or at his own home.

Looking down at his gauze wrapped wrist, Nick could feel the itch of healing flesh. He could also feel a very slight pressure where the RFID chip was pressing through the gauze surrounding his wrist. He wished he could rip the thing away, almost imagined that it was burning through the gauze, trying to burn its way through his skin and back into his wrist.

He was startled out of his thoughts when the door beside him was opened and McKenzie roughly grabbed his arm. "Come on, you!"

Instinctively, he tried to pull away, only to be cuffed on the side of the face. It wasn't as hard as it could have been, but it was still hard enough to hurt. Nick was pretty sure Grissom had threatened McKenzie, if he hurt Nick more than was strictly necessary for appearances.

The park they were at was more of a small untouched natural area, than a city park. There was a copse of trees that took up most of the space, a trail running through them. At this time of the day – about midday – the park was nearly deserted. McKenzie pushed him roughly down the trail, then off into the trees.

When they came to a stop, McKenzie forced Nick to his knees, and they waited.

"So, it's done then?" the voice nearly made Nick jump out of his skin. He watched McKenzie turn towards it, but didn't dare move himself.

"Yes, they're both dead, like you wanted," McKenzie replied. "Did you really get Judge Stokes to confess to your crimes?" When Judge Morris looked at him strangely, McKenzie said, "That's what Grissom said, before I killed him."

Judge Morris moved around so he was standing in front of Nick, patting his head almost affectionately. "All I had to do was threaten his family."

Nick eyed Judge Morris from under his brows. He'd known this man, when he was younger. The man's black hair had faded to gray, but his eyes were the same intense blue, his posture still spoke of strength.

There was a time when Nick's father had respected Judge Morris, considered the man a dear friend, probably the closest thing to a best friend his dad had ever had. He wanted to jump up and hit the man as hard as he could, scream at him, "How could you!" but he refrained. Let the man hang himself.

"He'd do anything for his son. He believed me, when I told him I'd make sure Nick, here, went free, if he'd just accept my crimes as his own. You should have seen the look in his eyes when his wife told him she didn't know where Nick was, that she hadn't seen him since that night. It nearly killed him!"

Nick couldn't restrain himself anymore. With a shout, he launched himself at Judge Morris, tackling the older man as he would have a rival football player in highschool. He tried to pummel the judge with his fists, but he was pulled off of the other man before he could get in more than two punches. Tears of rage poured from his eyes. He heard yelling, but couldn't understand who was shouting or what they were saying, through his fury. A sharp slap across his cheek brought Nick back to himself, and he realized it had been him yelling.

Agent Hartley was in his face, snapping, "That was a stupid move, Stokes! If you'd caused more serious injuries to him, your owner would be in serious trouble!"

Surprising the agent, Nick reached into her pant pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He found the one he was looking for, and unlocked the collar from his neck. He let it fall to the ground, the key still in the lock. Then he pulled on the edge of the gauze around his wrist, unwinding it so the RFID fell to the ground, the gauze trailing behind it.

Snarling into Agent Hartley's face, "No one owns me!" he spun on his heal and walked away.

When he'd reached the street, he pulled Greg's cell phone from his pocket, and called Grissom. When the other man picked up, he said, "It's done. Agent Hartley's pissed at me, I could use a ride."

After a short pause – in which Nick figured Grissom was trying to reconcile this suddenly assertive Nick with the much more timid and shy Nick of just a few days ago – Grissom said, "We'll be there in a few minutes."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

After the way Agent Hartley had treated Nick, they'd only stuck around long enough to make sure that Judge Morris wouldn't be bothering them again.

Grissom had given Greg a two week leave of absence, and Greg had taken Nick home, to see his family, who were overwhelmed with joy. They'd stayed for a week, and promised to return as soon as they could, but Greg knew they still had an apartment to clean up and refurnish, so they had made the trip back to Vegas.

Greg's renter's insurance company processed his claim in near record time, and they only ended up sleeping on the floor for a couple of days, before they had their brand new bedroom set, as well as everything else they needed to refurnish the apartment.

Saying he had something he needed to go do, Nick had used his new found freedom to take the bus into downtown Las Vegas. Greg wasn't worried, he knew Nick could take care of himself. Something about the act of removing the collar and the RFID himself had caused a change in Nick. While he would still become nervous around new people, he wasn't as shy, and would more readily speak up.

Sara and Warrick had come by the day they got home from Texas, to help them clean out the apartment. Warrick had said something about slave labor, and Greg cringed, as he waited for Nick to come running to him for reassurance, but Nick had just laughed it off, even gone so far as to slap Warrick on the back in a friendly manner when the other man apologized.

Nick had been gone for a few hours now, and Greg expected him back any time. He hadn't been idle while Nick was gone, though. Nick's family had sent them back with a stack of old photos, as well as a memory card with tons of new photos, and Greg had been scanning the stack of photos into his new computer.

He had already printed out a few from the memory card, and just wanted to get a few of the older photos enlarged and printed before Nick got back.

The key was turning in the lock about half an hour later, as Greg set the last newly framed photo on the new chest of drawers in their bedroom.

"Greg?" Nick's voice echoed through the apartment, the walls still bare enough to cause sound to bounce off of them.

"In here," Greg called back, standing back to admire his handy work.

Nick came in, moving up behind Greg to see what he was looking at.

Strong arms wrapped around Greg's waist, and he felt Nick's face against his neck, felt wetness against his skin, and knew Nick was crying. "I love it, thanks!" Nick whispered. Greg felt the warmth of Nick's face leave his neck, and knew the other man was looking at the photos again. There was one of Nick's parents, taken just before that fateful night. There was one of Nick's whole family, taken when all of the siblings still lived at home, making Nick about eight or so at the time. There was a new picture of all of the siblings. The very last picture was one of Nick and Greg, taken by one of Nick's sisters in a candid moment between the two.

"Where've you been?" Greg asked curiously, turning around in Nick's arms so he could face his lover.

"I had something I had to take care of," Nick said cryptically. Greg could feel Nick fiddling with the leather cuff he'd taken to wearing over the scar on his wrist.

"You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," Greg said, putting a hand over Nick's heart, feeling the steady beat. Enjoying being so near the man he loved.

Nick didn't say anything, but his left hand came up and took hold Greg's. The first thing Greg noticed was that Nick had removed the cuff. The second thing he noticed was a splash of color over the quarter inch scar on Nick's inner wrist. Turning Nick's hand so he could see the inner wrist better, Greg gasped.

"Do you like it?" Nick asked softly, his gaze locked on Greg's face, looking for Greg's reaction.

Greg examined the tattoo more closely. It was a much smaller version of the shooting star Greg had drawn on Nick's cheek, with one difference. The tail of the shooting star sported two S's, one neatly nestled against the other, almost indecipherable as being two separate S's. The whole thing was no longer than the scar it covered.

"Two S's, Nicky?" Greg asked curiously, locking eyes with the other man.

"I was hoping we could get our names hyphenated. Sanders-Stokes, or Stokes-Sanders, I don't really care, I just want everyone to know we belong to each other," Nick had a hopeful smile on his face. The smile that blossomed on Greg's face made Nick's smile grow larger.

"In that case, it's perfect, Nicky!" Greg said, before brushing his lips over the tattoo. "Forever mine," he sighed, before moving to capture Nick's lips in a passionate and loving kiss.

Nick agreed, adding his own, "Forever mine! My soul!" before gently pushing Greg towards the bed.

A/N: Well, this is it, the ending of another story! I do hope you've enjoyed it. I think you have, if the nearly 10,000 hits is anything to go by. Please, drop me a review, or add to favorites! Thanks for coming along for the ride. I sure can't wait to see where the boys take me next, and I hope you'll come along for the ride then, too!


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